Blood, Tattoos, and the Finest of Fabrics
by hiei700
Summary: Kanda's just a starting fashion designer living out his "days-until-the-deadline" in his humble apartment. His new "next-door-neighbor," however, is raising his suspicions. Maybe for good reasons. Vampire x Human Modern AU (Warning for blood and self-indulgent descriptions of Kanda's appearance)


The new guy moved in a few weeks ago. He has been silent ever since. Kanda Yu wasn't usually one to actually object to the sweet sound of absolutely no sound whatsoever, but it was... odd. The kid never so much as poked his head outside of the other apartment, at least, from what he knew.

He wasn't the type to stalk a door just to see if the new occupant ever got out or not. He did, however, notice that every time he returned from work, the sun was setting, and faint stirring could be heard from behind the wall separating their apartments. By that time, however, Kanda was usually exhausted and just flopped into bed.

The next morning everything would be silent again.

Maybe the guy was just actually the floor mate Kanda had been waiting for all his life: someone quiet who worked a different shift than him and never felt the need to act friendly or introduce himself. He really shouldn't be complaining, but it was just __odd__. The occupant set off warning bells in Kanda's head, and his intuition was almost always right. He was nearly exploding. He needed to tell __someone.__

He was afraid that if he told the landlord, Lavi about it, the nosy redhead would investigate. Then again Lavi was the one who told him about the new guy in the first place: a short, British boy with a weird tattoo on his face. Kanda could definitely get more information out of him, but the redhead would undoubtedly just drag him into some grandiose scheme.

He went with the safer option: his childhood friend, Lenalee.

Lenalee lived a few floors down (with her brother in the apartment next to hers). The apartment complex they were staying in was divided into two sides with several floors. Each floor had two rooms, a middle lobby where the elevator was located, and another two rooms on the other side. It was supposed to be a good deal for privacy, and Kanda __did__ like privacy. The new guy that moved in, however, just rubbed Kanda the wrong way.

He told Lenalee how he felt, and she seemed to know just what was wrong.

"You want to get to know him!"

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you want to make friends with him! That's what it seems like at least. Unless..." She yawned, her head tilting to rest on her door frame. "You think he's actually suspicious in an 'ax murderer' kind of way."

"You've been spending way too much time with Lavi." In response, she giggled, but that was followed by another yawn. Lenalee worked the night shift: 11 p.m. until 7 a.m. She wanted better hours, but what can you do when you're a first year police officer and they stick you with the shittiest shifts? Either way, Kanda's questions were keeping her from sleeping, so he needed to leave. It was his day off, personally, so he might as well not spend it ruining the next work day for his friend.

* * *

Another week or so passed without Kanda ever seeing a glimpse of the guy who moved in. He was suspicious, sure, but there were bigger issues to worry about. Namely, there was a string of violent murders in their small city, and worry buzzed through the citizens like an electric shock. He was just getting off the elevator when, yet again, he heard the newest update relayed off the lips of various apartment owners.

"Did you hear? Another one was killed: a grown man this time."

"Hear? I walked past the crime scene on my way back from work this morning!"

"If you left a little earlier, that could have been you."

"Don't say something like that!"

Kanda had to admit, even he was a little scared. That didn't mean he was going to suddenly stop going to work. He was, after all, an up-and-coming fashion designer. He had to get his new line prepared in time for fall, and no serial killer was going to stop him.

Sure, he thought big, but in reality, he was still licking nervously at his bottom lip piercing. Poor thing: the spiral barbell was only a few months in his skin and it was already subjected to his anxious torture. He was a wreck, and currently he was running on coffee, tea, and desperation. His panic was definitely there, but he buried it well. That didn't mean he didn't feel it though; he was terrified, almost unreasonably so. Even if all of the murders took place at night while he traveled mainly during the day, there's a first time for everything.

He wasn't the only one to think so either; everyone at the bus stop seemed anxious. More whispers were tossed back and forth. Although no one actually knew any details of the crimes, what they construed through rumor and whim was terrifying. Kanda physically had to force himself to not jump onto the bus the second it arrived. He was disappointed in himself to say the least, but the speedy boarding meant at least his stupid cowardice was pleased.

* * *

The studio he worked at was actually owned by his foster father. Froi Tiedoll was a famous artist—famous meaning people would pay hundreds to thousands for his works. That being said, building a separate room for Kanda to set up shop in wasn't a big dent into his wallet. Kanda was still determined to pay every cent back, but he had to finish this line first.

Kanda's studio was filled with pinks and greens, blues and blacks, life and death and everything in between. His inspiration for his debut line had to be important to him, so he chose the one thing that meant the most to him. Pictures of lotuses lay scattered around, laying on tables, chairs, and the floor. He had even stuck a few up on the wall with tacks. A book, __A Guide to the Basics of Buddhism__ , lay overturned under a pile of white satin. Mannequins stood proudly around his studio, dressed in the androgynous fashion he specialized in. He was an elegant individual, and that was reflected well into his long, flowing dresses, skirts, and cardigans. It was also evident in the muted colors and sparing yet powerful accessorizing he employed.

He had spent hours upon hours pricking his fingers on needle points and cutting up cloth. He was going to lose it soon. He needed some fresh air.

He stepped outside, a cup of tea in hand, and noted that the sky was dark. It was late; he stayed a bit too long. That wasn't unusual, but it meant he had to leave soon. A shame, since he was in the middle of a tiered dress. He could pull an all-nighter again, but the last time he did that, he nearly killed Lavi when the guy said good morning too loudly for his liking. He checked his cell phone for the time: 9 p.m. The next bus didn't come for an hour, so he still could clean up his workplace a bit before leaving. He did just that, laying out a few fabrics and tools for tomorrow as well. When he finished, it was 9:45, and that left him with just enough time to jog to the bus stop.

The street lights provided more-than-sufficient lighting, and traffic wasn't bad either. He was a block or so away from the bus-stop when he was suddenly shoved over. Completely over: onto his side. Some idiot had run out of the nearest alleyway and right into Kanda. A few links in his loose-knit cardigan probably broke, and his jeans definitely had a tear in the hip, but the man was far more concerned with the asshole who just ran him over.

"Shit! Watch where you're going!" He sat up belligerently and wiped some dirt off of his sleeveless turtleneck. His eyes flicked up to a boy who just so happened to be apologizing profusely.

Kanda was almost taken aback and how absolutely adorablethe guy was.

The most prominent feature was undoubtedly the dark red ink etched into his skin: a star above the left eye that bled down, over the gentle slope of his brow bone and eye lid into a twisted, distorted cross that spread across his cheek. Other than that, the stranger seemed almost stuffy with his vest, button up shirt, and dress pants, but it was endearing nonetheless. He had a big mess of soft, fluffy, white hair—completely white, not a blonde streak in sight—and light skin that reminded Kanda of moonlight. The stranger's eyes were silver, far too luminous to be merely grey. Their gazes met and locked into place; this new boy seemed to be lost in thought.

A nearby car blaring its horn brought them out of their trances, and Kanda smacked away at the hand that was trying to help him up. He stood on his own, dusting off his pants, and glared down at the kid.

"S-Sorry! I didn't mean to run into you!"

"Yeah, no shit." His hiss seemed to shock the smaller boy, who was obviously expecting something more dismissive. That surprised look, however, was quickly covered up with a fiery rage.

"Well, Jesus, you don't have to be an arse about it! I said sorry!" Kanda's eyebrows went up. Weird tattoo on his face, British accent, and...

"You're pretty short, aren't you, Beansprout?" Now, a complete look of mortification overtook the smaller man's face.

"The name's Allen, bastard!"

"Kanda, nice to meet you, neighbor." His smirk threw off the short man for a second, but recognition soon crossed his face along with a pitiful horror.

"You're..."

"Nice to finally meet my... __Flatmate,__ as you would say. Now, if you don't mind," he went to step away from the conversation, but Allen caught his wrist.

"Wait!" His eyes widened slightly, and he turned back to the small... Teen maybe?

"What?"

"You uh, you won't tell anyone-"

"Shit!" Kanda suddenly shouted as he heard the telltale sound of those old bus breaks stopping in front of the little blue sign two blocks down. "Let go, Sprout."

"You can't-"

"What the fuck?!" Kanda tugged his arm back harshly, but the boy's grip only increased.

"You won't tell anyone I was here, right?"

"Why the fuck do I care?! Let go! I'll miss my-" the re-initiated eye contact just so happened to be a big mistake on Kanda's part. He was met with gold, glowing irises and a devilish smile. He froze, head suddenly feeling incredibly light, and stumbled back a bit. He wanted to look away; he __needed__ to, but he couldn't.

"You look a bit pale; maybe you'd like a ride home with me?" Silence passed over the two, and Kanda physically felt his eyelids drooping. He was the third party to some pathetic display of himself, and he was pissed about it.

"No fucking way, creep." His lips finally spat the response out, half slurred yet enraged. He ripped his hand from Allen. The trance-like event immediately fell to pieces, and the boy stood shocked in front of him. When Kanda dared looked again, those platinum eyes were blown wide in surprise. The boy himself seemed to suddenly have a pallor that wasn't there earlier. He could have sworn... Just a moment ago the guy was tanner with... No, no. It must have just been that weird spell that took over him. "Take a picture; it'll last longer." With that, he shoved a shell-shocked Allen aside and ran to catch the bus right before it pulled out.

* * *

Kanda couldn't help it; as soon as he got to his room, he ripped out his sketch book and started designing. His apartment was neat, sure, but his desk was __pristine__. His apartment had four total rooms: a bedroom which was attached to the bathroom, a kitchen, and the living room that was big enough for Kanda to shove a desk and a foldout couch into. The slightly cramped space didn't hinder his design though. Especially now, when inspiration hit him, Kanda didn't even register his environment much at all. Ruffles and bunches and bubble skirts were scrawled upon page after page of the black, hardcover booklet. His pallet of choice consisted of silvers, whites, blacks, and intense blood-reds. He kept the look sharp and classy, but also incorporated a few aspects from his own cultural background. In the end, he had finished the beginnings of a very promising new line of gowns, suits, dress-garments, and formal-casual wear. The digital clock he had on his work desk was glaring at him. It was 3 a.m., and he needed sleep.

Rubbing his eyes, he blindly searched around for his brush. He was about halfway through detangling his hair when he suddenly heard a knock at the door.

Well, whoever the fuck was crazy enough to try to get him to come to the door at this hour deserved at least a "fuck off," so he stood up, swearing and continuing to send his brush through the silky locks in his hand.

"Who is it?" He opened the door with a growl, and a nervous-looking Allen stood before him.

"A-ah, hey K-Kanda. I, uh,-"

"What the fuck? Haven't you already caused me enough headaches for one day?" Kanda was half-tempted to just slam the door in his face after the eerie experience earlier, but... for __some__ reason, the thought alone made him feel a spike of guilt.

"Listen! I'm being serious here."

"Okay?"

"I, uh, I lost my room key."

"And? Mine won't work on yours if that's what you're asking."

"No no, it's just... Well, Lavi isn't actually in his office. I'm not sure where to find him..."

"He's probably out partying." Kanda threw his hair back over his shoulder, tilting the brush in his hand back and forth absentmindedly. "Usually goes out every Friday and Sunday night. Sucks to be you, huh?"

"You have to be joking..."

"Wish I was; I wouldn't have to be talking to you at three o'clock in the fucking morning. What kind of dipshit doesn't keep a spare anyway?"

"It's been a rough day, okay?" The Brit whined, head resting against Kanda's door frame. "I just wanted somewhere to sleep..."

"The carpet in the hall isn't that bad."

"You prick! Don't make me ask you!"

"Ask me what?"

"Ugh! Just, can I sleep on your couch or something?" Kanda wasn't exactly smart, but even he knew letting aggressive, evil-seeming strangers spend the night in your house wasn't a bright idea.

And yet...

"Got twenty bucks?" The strange boy seemed about ready to explode.

"Fuck you; I'll find someone else."

"Mm, your loss. My couch is __extremely__ comfortable."

"I don't have money to spend on kissing the ass of someone like you."

"Then offer a service." That hung in the air awkwardly for a few seconds, a blush spilling gradually onto Allen's cheeks.

"A... service?"

"Nothing vulgar, shortshit. Mind outta the gutter." The taller of the two reached out, taking the brush a few times through the white hair before him. "Model for me."

"M-model?!"

"You're missing your ears; what a tragedy. Yes, I said model for me. Is this all-natural?" He stepped closer, suddenly interested in how snow-white the roots were. It was amazing.

"Y-yeah, but, I-"

"Come on; it'll just be for some sketches and whatnot. I design clothing. You just have to try a few things on; no runways or anything." Kanda stepped back into his room, already expecting an agreement. After a few moments of Allen's vacillation, he received one.

"A-alright. Just... Just once though, okay?"

"Just once."

Turns out, Kanda did have a comfy couch; it was a fold out. The plush, navy blue carpet tickled Allen's feet, and the sophisticated modern-Asian look the place had going on was really appealing. It was cool without losing a certain level of warmth; Allen liked it. As a host, Kanda was pretty decent too. He gave Allen a few spare covers and pillows, full access to the kitchen and bathroom, and an opportunity to pet his dog. The little chorkie was a terror, and her name was Golem. Ironic, considering how tiny she was, but she kept up her guard duties well. She almost bit off Allen's entire hand, after all. Thankfully, Kanda took that as a cue to put her back in her pen for the night. As he left for his bedroom, he spoke a little bit about having a husky, Mugen, back home too.

Allen was, well, scared honestly. His fingers kept twitching, twitching with excitement and something darker. Kanda was just in the next room over, filling up a bowl of water. He could kill him so easily; he should, really, considering the Japanese man had caught him earlier during one of his... __escapades__.

If word spread to Lavi that he was going out, unauthorized... If word spread to someone even higher than Lavi...

The designer appeared stupid and reserved enough, though; exploiting him seemed like a much better option. That thought process came to a screeching halt when he suddenly grabbed his own right wrist and squeezed. Pain was one of the only ways to subdue his other side; Allen refused to take advantage of someone's kindness. Panic was the easiest way to let his darker self take over—which is why he relented so easily earlier.

The idea of killing Kanda... It was wrong, and though he was a monster, he wasn't that low. He relaxed and took a deep breath just in time.

"If you need pajamas you can borrow some of my old clothes." Kanda was leaning against the door frame, head resting on the wooden trimming and hair falling like midnight ink in a waterfall at his side. Kanda was, quite frankly, one of the most beautiful sights Allen had ever laid eyes on. His lashes were thick and full, his body was lean yet toned, and his legs—holy shit he had nice legs. Every feature on him was as sharp and intimidating as a lion, but somehow, he still managed to resemble a crane more. Elegant yet fierce and ready to strike at any given moment; maybe he wasn't truly as easy of a target as he seemed. The baggy cardigan he wore gave him a comfortable domestic look, though, so if Allen wasn't so great at reading people, he might have missed the strength that teemed just beneath the surface of that beautiful face.

"Yeah, that would be great actually." He offered up a smile of his own, and Kanda snorted for some unknown reason before turning and exiting the room. This guy, this really weird __stranger__ that he let into his room on a whim, was definitely not the first person to eye him up. He returned with a pair of baggy shorts and a t-shirt.

"Honestly, I usually sleep naked, so I don't have very many pajamas."

"A-ah... I see. You'll, uh, you'll wear something tonight, right?" Kanda quirked an eyebrow up, tossing the clothes to Allen almost indifferently.

"Why would I do that?"

"C-cause I'm here!"

"It's not like we're in the same room. If you don't come barging in unannounced, you won't seem my junk. It's that's simple." The vulgarity in that statement made Allen turn even paler, but that only brought amusement to Kanda's features.

"Just... get out, okay? I want to change." He sighed, laying the pants beside him and clutching the t shirt with his right hand. "Actually... Don't you have anything longer? Like a... A sweater or?"

"Are you kidding me? You'll die in something like that."

"No, no, really I'm always cold." Kanda wasn't really satisfied with that response. On the contrary, his features screamed distrust. Allen held his nervous smile regardless, hoping he'd just accept that and move on. Quite honestly, he couldn't stand these stuffy clothes much longer. He had been in the same dress clothes all evening.

"You're a shitty liar." Kanda clicked his tongue before heading back into his room. Allen took that opportunity to swap pants.

"I have this ugly-ass Christmas sweater, and this thing from my college." Kanda announced as he entered the room once more. Allen looked like an idiot: a crisp, white dress shirt and wrinkled, baggy cadet blue shorts that sagged down his ass just enough to reveal the pastel pink of his boxer briefs.

"Ah, the uni one."

"'Uni' huh?" He chuckled, handing over his pullover hoodie. "Now is that all you need, Beansprout?"

"Like I said earlier, the name's Allen, but that's fine. Just go be naked somewhere else now."

"Fine, fine. I'm going." He rolled his eyes before once more exiting the living room. "Feel free to sleep in tomorrow. Saturday's my day off." The call carried an oddly considerate tone, and Allen couldn't help but to smile. It had been some time since he's lived with someone else, and even though Kanda was a complete asshole, he was better than silence.

* * *

Light had just barely begun to beat back at Kanda's curtains when he heard a knock on his door. Not the door to his apartment, though, the door to his bedroom.

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, swinging his legs out over the side of his mattress. Thankfully, he chose to wear boxers last night just in case the kid had something to say. He chose to forego the piercing and contacts until later, rubbing his eyes as he slipped on his glasses and slid open his lock.

"What is it?" He grumbled, pulling back on the door, and what met him shocked him awake.

"Kanda, Kanda, please, I need in my room. You have to find Lavi; he has to be somewhere." The kid was sickly-looking, and sweat held wisps of his white hair fast against his pale cheeks. He kept swallowing, and before Kanda knew it, the Brit had both hands (one bare and one gloved) on his shoulders.

"Please. I have... I have medication in there. I need it, __please.__ "

Well that certainly jolted him awake. "Shit, seriously?" Lavi was probably asleep somewhere, but that could be anywhere from a friend's house to the library. He clicked his tongue before turning back to his room. "You go to your door; I'll be there in a second."

"B-but-"

"Just two seconds, Sprout." He cursed again, searching around on his counter until finding a few Bobby pins. He didn't even bother with a shirt, dragging Allen's nearly-limp ass out the door before arriving to the room. It took him a total of two minutes to the pick the lock, and once he ripped the door open, Allen flew inside. Not really knowing what to do, he stood there awkwardly, waiting for the shorter boy to return, occasionally glancing at the elevator, then the staircase at the end of the hall. He really hoped no one suddenly popped up and saw him half naked, holding open a door like some idiot.

It took a moment, but when Allen re-emerged, he was still shaking, a weak quality to his legs.

"S-sorry about that. I just... Couldn't wait anymore."

"Don't be sorry." He growled the usually comforting phrase, "just tell me why you didn't tell me last night that you take meds?"

"A-ah, well, um... I... Forgot."

"You forgot? Your own meds?"

"It's easy to do! They're new. For my, uh, low iron count." Kanda looked as if his built-in bullshit detector was screeching, but he shook his head. He wasn't going to invade the kid's privacy.

"Whatever. Don't forget again."

"I'll try not to..." Allen mumbled, eyes trailing back to his pitch-black room. "Actually, Kanda... Why didn't you just do this last night?"

"Picking locks is substantially easier when it's not three in the fucking morning, Sprout."

"Ah... I guess I should just..." Kanda knew he probably shouldn't say anything, but he didn't like where Allen was trailing off to.

"You can sleep more in my room if you want." Shit. He sounded desperate and lonely. "I don't care either way." That did little to cover it up, but the kid didn't seem to mind either way.

"You, uh... You mean it?"

"Why the fuck would I say something if I didn't mean it?" The hopeful, albeit weak look to Allen's face morphed into irritation.

"I don't know! Agh, you're so frustrating!" And Allen pushed him out of the way (even though he wasn't quite in his way in the first place), stomping right back into Kanda's room and plopping down on the couch.

* * *

"I, uh, I'm starting to think that this was a bad idea." They were in Kanda's studio. It was Monday, and as per Allen's request, it was around 7 p.m. He was sleeping all morning, it seemed. The pale boy kept pacing around, eyes traveling to all the mannequins dressed elegantly around him. He felt like he was in the middle of a gala. He felt like he didn't belong.

"Just take off your shirt, Sprout. It's not that hard." Kanda, on the other hand, was finding great amusement from watching the wonder fluttering over Allen's features. His studio, currently, was filled with only his finest works. He set it up just to intimidate the kid. However, that meant he only had formal wear on display.

"I just... I'm not comfortable with this..." Allen's right hand timidly reached out to brush across a fabric, a brilliant red that pooled out across the table like blood. It felt completely out of place in the earthy and stormy tones, but Allen was drawn to it.

"Too late to back out now. This should be your size. Go put it on." He handed over over an outfit; it was one of the more casual ones that he had already taken down. The blazer was black, but he had taken an eternity to sew in a subtle, growing petal pattern into the jacket. The pink outlines wrapped around garment, stretching from the left pocket to the center of the back then to the right shoulder. The white, sleeveless button-up top was also a bit unique; it had a high, gathered collar that the thin cotton fabric pooled around. It was almost antique, but in a modern way. The pants were pretty normal, except they had little... Water lilies? Lotuses? Sewn into the back pockets. Other than that, they were just a pair of black jeans with silver trim. "There are mirrors in the dressing room. I'll pick out accessories once you get back." And with that, he shooed the boy away.

Allen, was, well, nervous to say the least. He... He couldn't actually tell if he looked good or not; all he knew was that the clothes seemed to fit. He kept his gloves on, like always, but his bare feet padded quietly against the cold tile flooring. Maybe if he was quick enough, he could make a run for it? The changing room was attached to Kanda's studio, but it was also a direct bee-line away from the steps that would lead to the front door.

"You finally done, Sprout?" He jumped at the voice that yanked him up from his plan. Kanda was right at the end of the narrow hallway, walking up the stairs to freedom, two cups in hand. He was sipping from the one, but as he approached Allen, he handed the other over.

"What's-"

"You spill any tea on that blouse and you're dead meat." He then half pushed Allen back into the main room of his studio. Unfortunately, he was once again met with the lines of tables, the party of mannequins, and the judgmental gleam in Kanda's eyes. "Do you like it?" He jumped a little bit, fumbling with the styrofoam cup and lifting up the plastic cover on it.

"Ah, oh, wait a minute; I didn't try it yet."

"Not the tea, idiot, the outfit." Kanda was now leaning against one of the long wooden tables he had set out across the polished studio floor. Of course he meant the outfit. Allen felt like an idiot.

"O-oh! Yeah, it's uh, really fancy actually..."

"Fancy?" The designer clicked his tongue, disappointment evident. "It's supposed to be semi-casual."

"No, no, not that kind of fancy. I just, uh, I'm not used to wearing high-end clothing like this? It makes me a little nervous, honestly."

"I'm a starting designer; that's about as high end as a sweater your grandma knits for you." Kanda took an amused sip from his tea before shaking his head. "Glad you like it though. Looks good on you."

"Really?" Allen tilted his cup up as well, but seemed to be a little off-set by the taste.

"Something wrong?"

"Ah, it's just... You, uh, didn't get any milk in this?"

"Fuck no. I hate milk in my tea." Kanda took another sip, brows raised as if emphasizing his point. "Be happy I ordered you extra sugar."

"'Extra'? It's barely sweet!"

"Exactly how I like it."

"You're sick." All Allen received was a smirk in return. Soon Kanda was circling him, looking only half-interested as he drank at his tea.

"You look good, but..."

"B-but?"

"Doesn't suit you personally. It's not your style." The stylist stopped behind him, brushing something off the bottom of the blazer and sighing. "Guess I'll have to find another model to torture for this one. Mind if I take a picture anyway?" Allen whipped around at that, incredulity spreading across his features.

"A-A picture?"

"Yeah, you know," Kanda slid his smart phone from his lotus-print bomber jacket. "Click click, picture?"

"I-I don't know, I'm uh... Terribly camera shy."

"It's not going anywhere. I just need it for reference." Kanda seemed suspicious, and Allen once more felt the need to just eliminate his problem altogether. This guy could really be an inconvenience to him in the future.

"Really, I mean it. No photos." Kanda stared at him for a solid minute before rolling his eyes and stuffing his phone back into his pocket. Allen watched the designer search around, and felt an ache in his hands and his teeth and his __head__. The need to kill was strong, and maybe it was just his reemerging panic, but he never before felt an instinct as poignant as this. Kanda was turned, looking through a pile of fabrics and mumbling to himself. He moved to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, distracted by the intent to search for a sketchbook. It was the perfect opportunity. Despite his usual charm and kindness, Allen was losing to his other self.

Allen quietly set his cup down on the table behind him, taking a step closer to his unsuspecting victim. He felt a spike of something primal in himself, but that spike, although silent and intangible, sent Kanda spinning around. His eyes were wide and his free hand was now enclosed around a pair of scissors. He seemed to know nothing and everything all at once, and Allen panicked as the element of surprise slipped from his fingers.

He needed to play something off, put on any kind of façade.

He decided to fall flat on his ass in front of the guy, laughing nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"S-sorry! I-I slipped!" Kanda was incredibly guarded; he resembled a cat backed against a wall. He wasn't letting down that stance he had either, and his grip on the scissors in his left hand only tightened the longer Allen stared at him.

There was no fooling Kanda: that feeling—that overwhelming sense of existential dread and superficial hatred—that was bloodlust.

Allen had just tried to kill him.

"You... __slipped__?"

"Y-yeah." Allen knew he was busted, but he also knew that if he acted innocent, he could drive the other up a wall.

Still, it was odd that Kanda was able to pinpoint his attack like that... Unless. He went to lift his right hand from the ground, a sewing needle dropping off his skin. __Perfect.__

Turning his body just so, Allen concealed the hand with a gasp before ripping the tip through the heel of his palm. It was rather superficial, but Kanda would buy it.

"I-I even think I cut my hand." He raised it to show that there was indeed a slit there. This was the ultimate deciding factor. Kanda's eyes widened, and he dropped the scissors, immediately yanking Allen from the ground.

 _ _Just as I suspecte-__

"You idiot! You'll get that on the fabric!" Panicking, he reached around, grabbing a useless scrap of brown cotton and slapping it into Allen's palm. "Blood never comes clean! You need to be more careful."

 _ _Oh__

"That's... All you have to say?"

"For now at least." Kanda turned the boy's wrist in his hand, checking to make sure there weren't any dark marks on the cuff. "You scared the shit out of me." That was deep, almost like Kanda was trying to say two things at once.

"I know, I know. I fell on a needle is all. It scraped my hand."

"How the hell does a needle scrape anything?" Allen shrugged. It appeared his original suspicions were wrong. They just stood there for a few seconds, Kanda waiting until he deemed it safe to remove the fabric from Allen's palm. More silence passed between them as Kanda walked over to pick up the sketchbook he had been looking for. Without taking his eyes off Allen, who was now sipping sadly at his tea once more, Kanda pulled a pencil out of his pants pocket and flipped open his book.

"I don't know what kind of bullshit you just tried to pull," Allen's brows shot up as he glanced to Kanda, surprised at the blunt approach to the elephant in the room. "but I'll warn you ahead of time. If you touch me, I'll kick your ass." He spun the mechanical pencil around his slim fingers as the Brit looked up to him in pure shock. He really had nothing to say to that, but the mere mention of the situation hit Allen hard with shame.

They stood there like that for awhile, Kanda letting his words sit in and Allen trying to form words of his own.

"I... I should leave." Regret, hesitance, a gaze that he couldn't keep.

"Can I draw you?" It was all met with the view of Kanda lowering the small sketchbook from his cheeks to lay open in his left palm.

"What?" Incredulous, he almost didn't process the question asked of him.

"I said," he pressed the tip of the graphite to the paper, nodding once in Allen's direction. "Can I draw you?" A raised brow, evidence confusion. He just tried to __kill__ this guy.

"Shouldn't I... Leave?" A smirk in return for all of his thoughtful dubiousness.

"You agreed to model for me. You're not getting out of it that easily."

Allen didn't really know what to do. He had been standing at the same spot, sipping on his tea, for at least ten minutes. In fact, he had run out of tea awhile ago and had resorted nibbling on the styrofoam cup. Kanda was still doing whatever he was doing, occasionally telling Allen to move his arm or stand a little differently. He was growing bored, and he wanted to sit down. Quite frankly, he just wanted to go home. He had let his darker side nearly take over again. He had been keeping up with all of his supplements; why couldn't his body stop craving this?

The boy bit down harshly into the cup before him, ripping off a piece of it. He was torn from his thoughts, however, when Kanda scoffed, eyes still glued to his paper.

"You have the patience of a two-year-old, I see."

"Hey, buzz off! I'm thinking."

"And there's a first time for everything."

"You haven't even known me for a week!"

"Pretty sure I've pinned down you're an idiot though."

"Me, the idiot? That's __you__."

"What did you say?"

"I said you're an idiot. Might as well have not gone to Uni at all; couldn't get accepted in any actual universities, could you?" That smirk was gone, replaced with a genuine frown of animosity.

"Community college is just as good as professional bullshit."

"That's a lie, and you know it."

"At least I'm not a short-shit pale Beansprout."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you know, so white that if you step outside during the day you'll catch fire? Pretty sad if you ask me, Beansprout."

"The name is __Allen__! You, you," his cheeks turned a little red in anger, "JerKanda!" For the first time since he started drawing, Kanda looked up, eyes slightly widened. He obviously wasn't expecting that comeback, but he couldn't hold down a chuckle because of it. It was short and soft, but it moved Allen's heart. He smiled back at the man who was now shaking his head.

"I'm done."

"Trying to argue with me?"

"Drawing you, Sprout."

"Al-len." He huffed. "Let me see."

The three pages Kanda had filled were covered in sketches of Allen, messy and blurry and not quite displaying every feature of his face. They were mainly for the outfit after all, and that was displayed quite well. Kanda had been experimenting with the fit, evidently, because that was what he paid the most attention to. Kanda had obviously spent these past moments focusing on how the folds collected around Allen's waist, his hips, his arms, his legs and his butt (he noted with slight embarrassment). He tried to turn the thin page with a gloved hand, and when that didn't work, Kanda turned it for him, almost hesitant. The next page was just a sketch of a face. Wavy hair sprawled across the page; curls framed the cute, somewhat rounded cheeks there, and led up to a rather adorable, low, small ponytail in the back. Two round eyes stared jovially up at Allen, a tiny smile dancing on the cute lips. The nose was thin but sweet, almost like a fairy, and the eye lashes were long and full. What really struck out to Allen was the long, jagged scar on the left side of the face, the same tattoo-covered mark he received years ago.

"Th-this..."

"It's you." Allen hadn't seen his own face in... God, who knows how long? Years, over a decade. It was... Unreal. The eyes, the smile, those two little dimples in his cheeks, and just the general idea that Kanda had spent time making it. "I mean, a few things here and there aren't really in proportion. I think I messed up your right eye a b-" The designer stopped talking. There was a sniffling at his side. He looked up just in time to see tears sliding down Allen's face, a gloved hand covering his adorable pink lips from view.

Fuck, Allen was even a cute crier. Kanda was doomed.

"What's the matter with you?" Allen just shook his head in response, and Kanda understood that as "give me a moment." He waited, fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of the paper. He was pretty impatient, but it wouldn't kill him to shut up for a second.

"I... I just..." His glance traveled back up to Allen immediately, curiosity bubbling under a seemingly indifferent expression. "It's so... It's really... It looks so amazing, and I-"

"Don't you pull something like 'I'm so ugly' out of your ass." Allen blinked, completely caught off-guard, and then suddenly, he started laughing.

Kanda was slowly dying; this kid's giggle could rival an angel.

"Ah," he breathed out, but really, he might as well have just knocked Kanda over with one of his wings, "quite the pep talk there. I appreciate it." The artist stood, clicking his tongue as he carefully tore the page out of his book.

"I'm absolutely serious. Why would I ask anyone who wasn't attractive to model my clothes. I'm classy." And as he handed over the paper, a small blush crept up the back of his neck and onto the tips of his ears as he realized exactly what he had just said. Allen was an even worse situation; his cheeks were nearly glowing crimson, and his eyes were blown wide.

"...Kanda?"

"Just… just shut up and take it. It's yours. You're done; you can go home." He couldn't quite meet Allen's eyes, instead focusing on the light blue walls around him, staring holes through a poster on sewing safety guides. Damn, he really should invest in some mirrors for this place.

"Thanks." He felt a tug on the paper, but it definitely wasn't enough to pull it away. Allen was hesitating, and Kanda was two seconds away from just throwing it at him and storming out.

Instead though, he was suddenly stuck in place, entire face contorting into shock as two, little, wet lips planted themselves on his cheek. He stood frozen for a second before whipping his head suddenly to Allen. The British boy, however, was already headed to the changing rooms, a tiny skip to his step. It was... Shit it was so cute. Kanda subconsciously brought a hand up to cup his cheek, probably completely red at this point.

And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hold down that trembling smile that rose to his lips.

* * *

" _ _It's all a lie__." Allen stood in front of his mirror, staring back at the nothingness there. The nothingness that was him. This was all he was.

" _ _You didn't show him.__ " He wasn't alone; he had the wonderful company of his darker side.

" _ _He doesn't know.__ " Water fell down his cheeks, rolled off his chin. The sink below him __tinked__ softly as the clear droplet dissipated into the red water there.

" _ _You're a monster, Allen__." The nothingness in the mirror continued to speak, continued to bring him down. His lungs felt constricted; he couldn't breathe.

" _ _It's only a matter of time, Allen__." His teeth ached, and his bleary eyes looked down to the overturned pill bottle still sitting by the water's surface. There was no one in the water either; no one.

" _ _You'll slip up, and I'll take over, and-__ "

"No!" He plunged both hands suddenly into the sink. The pill bottle clattered onto the ground and rolled to safety, diluted red flew all over the mirror and all over Allen. He hissed, licked his lips, and felt his head spin.

" _ _You'll kill him with your own hands, Allen.__ "

"No, no no no no." He gripped the edge of the sink, gritting his teeth together as he tried to keep himself up. Everything was pulling him down now, and there was no helping hand in sight.

" _ _Just like you did with Mana.__ " His legs gave and he fell to the floor, sobbing like a child.

In his bedroom hung a quick sketch of his face done by his floor mate, his next-door neighbor.

His newest on the list of potential victims.

No, he couldn't think like that. Kanda wasn't just some object, he was a person: a pretty nice person under a blanket of douchebag, but a pretty nice person all the same.

He saw some kind of beauty in a freak like Allen.

A freak who was disowned because of his abnormalities.

A freak who spent his childhood in the circus, raised by a clown.

A freak who had a fucked up face from when said clown tried to push him away, when Mana tried to save himself and pushed Allen right into the sharp rocks on the path they had been trudging for hours.

A freak who had an even more fucked up arm. One that wasn't even real. A black thing, a metallic __thing__ to replace the demonic, red appendage he was born with.

Allen cried because for a freak like him, nothing good could stay.

* * *

"Just once" turned into once a week; once a week Allen would model for Kanda, and Kanda would sketch him out and run some new designs by him. It seemed he was done with this line, something he was incredibly proud of, and had just begun a new one.

"It's called, 'Keep Walking.'" Kanda finally conceded one day, and Allen's eyes immediately flew up from the page to meet Kanda's. Surprise was etched into his pale features, but the designer could only laugh at that. "Before you ask, __yes__ it's based on you. That's something you say a lot, right? I've seen it on a few shirts of yours." He took his sketch book back, flipping casually through the pages. "It's not a phrase that I'm personally in love with, but... it's... the least I could do for the inspiration."

"I... I inspired this all?" Allen mumbled incredulously, eyes locked onto the stretches of dresses and garments and outfits and accessories compiled into Kanda's book. The designer's mood stiffened when he glanced up to see just how adorable Allen was being: hopeful eyes, cute slumped shoulders, and a quivering smile.

"It's not a big deal. Don't make one out of it." He was blushing now, he knew it. He was trying to hide it. If Allen saw-

"Kanda?" Shit. Shit he was caught. He'll never live this down.

"Yeah?" He chanced another peek up, but this time he found a despondency written into Allen's disposition. He straightened up a bit, suddenly concerned, and Allen stood as he began speaking again.

"I... I've been hiding something from you. This, uh, this is... I'm not... I'm not as beautiful as you think I am."

"I never said-"

"Be quiet; just let me show you something." Allen's jacket was already tossed onto a nearby table, and his vest was soon to follow. The British boy hesitated, his right hand on the glove of his left hand. He stood that way for a good solid minute, but when Kanda tried to remind him that he didn't have to do this, he only wanted to do it more. The glove revealed a shiny black surface. Allen looked like he wanted to run and hide as he slowly opened and closed the prosthetic fist. His hand looked more like a claw, more like a monster, but he knew he wasn't done.

His shirt was the only thing left, and his hands shook so hard that he could barely even get all the buttons out. Thankfully, Kanda finally took the hint to stay silent. He just watched Allen, curious and a little anxious.

The button-up slipped off and fell to the ground. Allen's lean chest was marred with a large assortment of scars, but what stood out more than that was the above-elbow prosthetic limb that Allen wore. It was just like the hand: black, shiny, not human. Two bent lines of black ink led up from the end of the limb to Allen's shoulder, and there, little starburst of arrows flew from them. The arrows covered his shoulder, pectoral, side, and probably wrapped around the back too. Allen felt alienated. Like a creature for show. He regretted this; Kanda could have just sat there and thought he was the most gorgeous being on the planet, but he took that option away from himself. He chose to do this.

"It's... So high-tech" what Allen didn't expect was for Kanda to reach out and take his left hand, amazement in his features. He looked like he had just been shown a million dollars, and honestly Allen wouldn't doubt that cost. "My brother, he has prosthetic fingers. They're not nearly as nice as these, though. This is... How could you afford..."

"I work for the government." He ended up blurting it out before he could stop himself, and now he felt like an idiot. It wasn't a lie, sure, but it was a little bit of a secret. Kanda didn't question further, though; he was good at not being nosy. He simply took the prosthetic and looked and looked and looked at it. He was practically entranced for at least five entire minutes. 300 entire seconds. Allen's face was on fire.

"Well," he finally let go, leaning back in his chair. "I won't ask how you got it, but I will tell you that it makes you even more..." Hesitation, a bitten cheek. "' _ _beautiful__ ,' as you put it. I like the tattoos too." As he spoke, he was already beginning to take off his sleeveless turtleneck. Allen seemed hesitant about that, but he wasn't going to just tell the guy to stop. Instead, he took it as an opportunity to lean down and scoop up his own shirt, beginning to put it on once more. He was almost done, just two more buttons to go, when he peeked up at Kanda. The designer was bare-chested, and __that__ in itself was quite a sight to see. He was just about to mentally scold himself for the bit of liquid that was beginning to build up around his tongue when Kanda spoke up.

"This here, feel it." Whatever gods there may or may not be, they were cruel and merciless: testing Allen like this. What a fucked up world.

The artist was pointing to the tattoo on his left pec; Allen had seen it before from when he slept over in Kanda's room. He never thought much about it; it looked like a fancy three with branches shooting out around it.

"What is it, your mental age?" He scoffed in an attempt to cover up how embarrassed he was, but reached forward nonetheless. Surprisingly, Kanda's skin was rough in some patches. It was uneven. Allen's eyebrows rose in surprise, and Kanda laid one of his hands over the pale one on his chest.

"It's an Om, actually. Buddhist symbol."

"You're Buddhist?"

"I follow a few of it's principles."

"Okay... Why-"

"I got it tattooed over a scar." __That__ explained it. The slightly more elevated section of skin was easy to find if you felt around.

"O-oh... I... Won't ask you if you don't want me to." Silence passed between the two, Kanda looking pensively to the side, Allen growing more flustered with every microsecond.

"I got it in a car crash."

"A car crash?"

"Yeah." Kanda met Allen's eyes now, hand lowering off of the Brit's. "My... My boyfriend, when we were... Stupid and 16, we weren't in a good place: an orphanage. They had bad living conditions, a few cases of abuse, bad education..." He stopped for a second to collect his thoughts. Allen was respectfully silent; Kanda could go on for years about this place; he could tell.

"He knocked out one of the employees and stole his car keys. I told him it was a bad idea, but it was __something.__ He didn't really know how to drive, but I didn't either. He took the wheel, and we left, and..." A little bit of panic seeped through his voice, so he stopped once more to compose himself.

"We got a few miles before we heard sirens; he accidentally let his blinker run for a mile or some dumb shit like that. He said something like, 'if they catch us, we'll have to go back there.' Then, like some nihilistic asshole, he decided that... That it would be better to die together rather than go back. We were in a wooded mountain area, and he tried to swerve right through the guard rails. We..." He once again took Allen's hand, this time unintentionally.

"We were supposed to go right down the hill, rollover and die and never go back to that hellhole, but... I panicked. I grabbed the wheel and tried to push it the other way, back onto the road... Alma yelled at me, and everything was in slow motion. He... He asked me if I really loved him, and I screamed yes like he was some kind of idiot... but... before I knew it, there was a bang. We hit a tree instead. I had a branch through there," he brought Allen's hand to his tattoo once more. "But Alma... Wasn't wearing a seatbelt like me, so he... His head. He went forward, and he flew back, and... He was dead. I saw him die." The artist stopped to take a breath. There was no use in losing his composure. "I... I didn't, though. I got... I got a life that was so much better. I..." Years upon years of therapy had yet to drive into his heart everything his head knew, but he bit his tongue. He wasn't going to bury Allen in his chin-high depression.

"Tiedoll adopted me, supported my art. He bought me this place. Got me help. Was there when I got this too." He smiled fondly, glancing down at the tattoo splayed across his flesh, at the hands covering it. "You have to meet him some day."

"Already inviting me to see the parents?"

"Maybe." Allen, of course, was joking, but Kanda's tone was more serious than expected. It didn't hold the same solemn attitude as early; it was just... Hopeful: wondering.

"A-ah, I-I..." His metallic hand came up to nervously scratch at his cheek, turning away for a moment while he let himself get over his state of bright red cheeks and stuttering lips. When he turned back, well, the way Kanda was staring wasn't helping to calm the excitement tossing in his stomach. He couldn't look away from those gunmetal irises, but Kanda seemed to be mystified in the same way he was. Allen thought briefly of the first time he tried to use a trance on the artist, but this was much more effective.

He felt like he had two options, gaze into those dark eyes or stare hopefully at those light lips.

Their noses were suddenly touching, but neither of them really comprehended how close that meant they were.

They were lost.

They were locked onto each other.

Well, they __were__ until a blaring ringtone broke out from Allen's pants pocket.

The moment was broken, shattered into pieces. Allen jumped back, and Kanda jerked away so much he feared he'd topple his seat over. Allen, still in a state of shock, stuttered and sputtered as his hands flew to his back pocket. He stared at the screen, taking a few seconds to process the number.

"I-I have to take this!" And he seized that opportunity to scamper away, leaving a shirtless, confused, and disappointed Kanda behind him.

* * *

Although the moment-that-shall-not-be-named was unbelievably awkward for the them, Allen and Kanda both had a talent for ignoring absolutely everything that they didn't want to speak about. Despite being awkward and shaky, their relationship stayed relatively the same, and after a few more weeks, it began to steadily improve.

Currently, they were on Kanda's fold-out couch, watching a show on his laptop. Allen was seated comfortably beside the designer, his body wrapped in a few blankets. Turns out, Allen really did get cold easily. Kanda was right beside him, maybe even too close for the "get together" to be considered exactly casual. Neither of them were willing to speak up about it, though, fearing an awkward revisit of their previous mishap.

"Not fond of this character."

"Him?"

"Aye. 'E seems like a raight arsehole." Kanda chuckled beside him, and of course that made Allen look away from the screen and to his right. His chin was now seated on Kanda's shoulder, the dark ink lines there sitting under his irritated pout. "Wot?"

"You're..." He struggled for a second, "It's cute. The accent, I mean."

"C-Cute?"

"Yeah. When you get mad you do that accent thing. 'S cute." Allen's cheeks quickly became florid, and he played with the hairband he had in while grumbling.

"Can't 'elp it. Grew up in Yorkshire."

"I like it. It's great to have a little Brit here with me to comment on the show. Maybe you could even start narrating it." Kanda looked away from the screen for a brief moment to flash Allen a smirk. He had lived in America for most of his life, and based on how watered down Allen's accent was, the other was here for awhile as well. The pale boy pulled the covers in around himself even more, resembling an angry, British burrito.

"Well Ah'm just chuffed. Now 'ush up n' watch." Of course it was exaggerated, but that only added to the light-hearted anger of the situation.

"Of course, your majesty."

Kanda seemed happy, and that was great, but with every silent moment that passed between him, the sound of blood smashing through his veins resonated louder and louder in Allen's head. For some reason, he thought it would be a great idea to just keep his head at level with Kanda's heart, have his life force temptingly whisper in his ear. He swallowed, mouth salivating with desire. He wasn't panicking; he had no reason to.

Why was this urge so strong?

Kanda's guard was down; there was no way he could sense any ill intentions from Allen, right? Just a little tear, a rip, __a bite__

and the guy would be bleeding out all over the floor.

" _ _Better sooner than later, right__?"

His mind whispered as a tongue reached out to brush across his bottom lip. It would be so short and so good, and no one would ever have to know. He felt the familiar rush of darkness spreading from his mind to his fingertips, like the blooming of a blossom, the blood plume rising after a bruise. The soft plush of his blankets crashed down his back, the covers once encasing him now limply hanging from his shoulders. He was losing himself, but Kanda, the trusting idiot that he was, kept his eyes on the screen, completely distracted. Allen grinned, his canines far too prominent, his bloodlust far too thick.

Kanda was a fool.

In that exact moment, the door slammed open, the panting redhead on the other side, completely exhausted. Kanda sat up straighter instantly, almost as if he was already on edge, and Allen—who was half leaning on the guy—fell unceremoniously to his side as the other stared at the door.

"Lavi! What the hell?"

"Lena... Lenalee. She was, someone attacked her."

"Shit!" The designer stood now, tension obvious in his frame. Of course he knew Lenalee's line of work was dangerous, but he didn't expect an incident so soon in her career. "Is she okay?" Allen watched the exchange, throat dry, head throbbing, and inner demons ebbing away.

"Shaken up, but okay. She's downstairs." Kanda was gone before Allen could even get a word in. Lavi's single eye traveled after the man before landing abruptly back on the Brit. He suddenly wasn't panting anymore.

"Don't hurt Yu." Allen stopped his readjustment, eyes widening in shock. He sat still for a second, half standing, half sitting. For a second, he thought that maybe he misheard the landlord.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me, Al. I'm serious." He adjusted the straps of his eyepatch, now glaring at the shorter boy. Allen stood, both black and white arms crossing over his chest. He raised a brow, erecting himself a little straighter since he was being challenged.

"You're serious?" Lavi glanced at the stairs once before stepping inside, the door closing behind him.

"Listen, if you don't dump him soon, you're really going to end up killing guy."

"We're not-"

"Al!"

"But I haven't even-"

"Don't start." The redhead scolded, forming two loose fists at his sides. "Don't even start. I could feel that... That __aura__ from a mile away." It was evident by his tone and shaky anger that Lavi was stuck between a rock and a hard place. "…I'm providing you with free housing. Just take your supplements, kill the guy you're looking for, and leave." Unknown to Allen, Lavi's heart was about to crumble. To have to yell at the boy, the same kid he's helped through all of his transformation... It was hard.

"I... I can't house you any longer if you're doing absolutely nothing productive. We have at least a dozen casualties, and this guy has the nerve to attack a police officer? To attack Lenalee? In mid daylight? Are you doing anything at all?" Allen seemed shocked. In his entire life, Lavi hadn't once scolded him so fiercely.

"I thought you weren't supposed to get attached to the humans." He narrowed his eyes, taking a few steps towards his superior.

"Says the guy __fucking__ my best friend?" An indignant expression flashed through Allen's features.

"We're __not__ -"

"Save it; I don't care." He felt a finger jab his chest; Lavi was towering over him now, before him in the blink of an eye. "Don't fuck with his head, don't fuck with his heart, and do not kill him. It'll..." A harsh swallow, a quick flick of his tongue over his upper lip. He was truly doing his best to seem scary while also trying not to terrify his friend too much. "…It'll... be the last thing you do, u-understood?" There was no way Allen could deny a direct order from a Pureblood like this, but that didn't mean he wasn't upset about it. Once prey was designated, it was hard to let go of. However, before he could so much as growl in defiance, Lavi was grinning like an idiot once more, almost as if the confrontation never happened. "You wouldn't want a bad report, now would'ja?" He ruffled the white hair before him just in time for the door to open once more. The redhead now turned, smiling brightly before running over to jump at Kanda.

"Gah! You idiot! What the hell were you doing? I had to go talk to Lenalee without you!"

"Yuuuuu~! I'm sorry; I had to stay behind to assure Allen everything would be alright. He's super scared about all these attacks, right, Al?" He glanced behind, his normal attitude disguising the killer just beneath his flesh. Allen was impressed.

"Y-Yeah, these incidents are pretty terrifying." He gave a nervous chuckle, scratching his cheek as he grinned.

"Tell me about it; the asshole attacked Lenalee while she was on duty. He got away too..." Kanda sighed, still working on prying Lavi off of him. There was a moment of silence a little too long, and then… "Beansprout, maybe you should take some time off of work." The two looked incredulously at Kanda, the redhead's grip wavering just enough for the artist to throw him off.

"W-what?"

"I said, you should take time off. You work the night shift, right? That's dangerous."

"Yu! I'm sure he'll be just fine!" Lavi chimed in as he picked himself up off the ground, rubbing his poor, sore buttox.

"He's two pounds at most; there is no way he'd survive an attack. Look at him."

Lavi was about to interrupt again, but Allen beat him to it.

"I've taken self defense classes. I'll be fine, Kanda." Something told the designer that for once, Allen wasn't lying. He wanted to object—to say self defense wouldn't save his ass forever, but those two silver eyes looked at him so defiantly. Allen could protect himself, and that was that.

* * *

Allen was supposed to come over for another movie today. Kanda and he decided on something of the horror genre for a change, but at the moment, the designer was more concerned with the horror on the news.

Details of the string of murders had finally been released.

Victim after victim; they all had their throats torn open with two to four, sharp objects. They were all left to bleed out at the scene, but many times, there was an odd lack of blood there. Some speculated different ideas: bodies being moved, blood and organs being taken to sell on the black market, etc. The police were listing through evidence, little hairs found at the scene of the crime, a target profile of victims, and a few little curious items found at the different locations.

What really got Kanda's attention, though, was the broken, bloody, silver key found in the alley of a recent homicide.

Kanda would never deny being a pessimist, but something about that key in particular really creeped him out; it made him feel unsafe.

And the way the screen suddenly went black? Yeah, that was pretty scary too.

"Boo~" Kanda visibly flinched, settling only as Allen's voice registered in his mind. He turned to the Brit, who was currently standing beside the couch, holding his television remote.

"What the fuck, Beansprout?"

"If you watch too much of that, you'll go crazy~. Where's the movie at?"

"Not sure there's much difference in the content of either." Kanda sighed, lifting the lid of his laptop and starting it up. "You weren't even supposed to be here for another thirty minutes. I didn't make popcorn or anything." Kanda went to stand, but a small, pale hand pushed him back onto the couch. He looked to Allen, confused, but the boy could only laugh in response. He sat down next to Kanda, a little too close for comfort, and then giggled again when the man tried to scoot away.

"I'm not in the mood for popcorn. Just start up the film." Now __there__ was something to be scared about. Allen was always in the mood to eat.

"...Yeah, sure..." Still suspicious, Kanda got everything set up, slipping the DVD into the computer and letting it play. He sat back in the couch, already engrossed by the opening ambiance.

After a few minutes, even before the starting credits had properly finished, Allen's head was on his shoulder. Kanda figured he was tired or something, maybe even sick. He glanced down, but he wasn't going to move him if his guest truly was feeling unwell.

The cast was being introduced: a bunch of stupid teenagers like always. Kanda somewhat regretted the cliche pick already, but the rating was so high.

He jumped suddenly, brought out of his thoughts by something on his lap. He glanced down, blinking a few time in questioning because, yeah, that was definitely Allen's left hand on his thigh. His eyes traveled to the Brit's, and were rewarded with a playful little smile.

Kanda just rolled his eyes.

"Very funny." And he pulled the hand off of himself, setting it back in Allen's own lap before returning his view to the screen once more.

About ten minutes later, and the hand was back, giving his leg a nice squeeze. There wasn't really anything interesting going on, so Kanda didn't bother to pause the video as he shot Allen another "done with your shit" look. Only this time, the coquettish expression that greeted him stopped his warning dead in his throat. It seemed to be the exact reaction that Allen wanted, because upon seeing Kanda's face, he smirked a bit.

"These kind of movies are pretty boring, don't you think?"

No response; Kanda had no idea how to utter out anything at this point. He scrunched himself a little further into the corner of the couch, but Allen just adjusted, turning to face him now. This time, his pale, right hand was slowly slipping up from Kanda's knee, tracing along the stitching of his jeans, and Allen's mechanical fingers were resting on his shoulder.

"I'm sure I could offer something a bit more entertaining~?" Kanda seemed almost ready to panic. He wasn't good with people; he certainly wasn't good with this.

"What the hell, Beansprout. Get off!" He tried to push the smaller boy away, which in reality, should have been easy, but instead the grip on both his leg and shoulder tightened.

Allen wasn't going anywhere.

"C'mon, just one kiss?" Kanda was literally on the arm of his couch now, trying to get away from the situation.

"I'm serious!" He was nervous. Kanda trusted Allen, but... He had on that same expression that had captured the designer so fiercely when they first ran into each other. He wasn't going into the same type of... __trance__ , but he certainly felt uncomfortable.

"Fuck off!"

"You almost kissed me before; at the studio, remember? You were so close~." He leaned forward, and with nowhere else to go, Kanda just screwed his eyes shut and hoped it would all be over soon.

"C'mon, c'mon, don't be that way~" He was holding his breath when it happened. They kissed, Allen held it, swiveled a tongue across Kanda's lips, parted them, and only pulled away after brushing the obstructing teeth there a few times.

The designer somewhat felt like throwing up.

It's not like he didn't want to kiss Allen.

He just didn't want it to happen like this.

"You..." When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with a smug expression, so much unlike the Allen he knew.

"Me?" He leaned in again, nose brushing against Kanda's.

"You dick!" And Kanda pivoted suddenly, kicking a shocked Allen with all the force he could muster in his left leg. Seemed like years of martial arts classes paid off, because Allen flew to the other side of the couch. Kanda fell back, spine crashing against the floor. He hissed, but was quick to stand once more, just in time to be shoved up against the wall. Instinctively, he found his footing, barely keeping Allen pushed away. The space between them was crucial. If Allen got closer, he would be at the disadvantage.

Endless images of not only fighting instructors, but also the bullies in his old orphanage flashed like a film reel across Kanda's thoughts. It was that same strength, but also was that same malice. Kanda felt it and so much more. The desperate bloodlust: confusion, frustration. It leaked from Allen's eyes almost like tears.

"What the hell is wrong with you, huh, pretty boy?" Kanda gritted his teeth, meeting Allen's eyes.

Only, they weren't really Allen's.

The gold was back, consuming his irises, and Kanda was too shocked to really process much more than that.

"You could have made this so much __easier__ on yourself if you would have just been normal." They were in a grapple of sorts, both keeping the other at bay via a strong grip on their shoulders. The alien color was still boring into Kanda from below. He was taller; he was bigger. He thought he was stronger. Why wasn't he winning?

"What the fuck are you talking about?" It seemed like that was the question Allen wanted to hear. A smirk, and both eyebrows briefly nudged up in a way that would have been suggestive in any other situation.

"I'm a vampire, Kanda. I'm going to kill you. Right here." The designer scoffed, but that only made the tight grips on his shoulders become even harder. Whether it was in anger or in excitement, Kanda couldn't tell, but he wasn't about to lose face in front of... In front of that stare.

"I'll believe it when I see you turn into a bat and fly, Sprout." A little, mischievous hum. A glint to his eyes.

"How about this instead?" And he grinned, flashing a set of very convincing, white fangs at the other. For a split second, Kanda felt his arms go numb, felt everything freeze up. They obviously had to be fake, but...

"You... Didn't have those..." Then, almost if he had been reading the artist's mind:

"They're real, __really real__ ; I swear." The tone bled excitement; bled a violence and a love for it. "Let me __show you.__ " He lurched his head forward again, but Kanda kept him back: adrenaline pumping thick through his veins.

Now that he thought about it, that kinda made a lot of sense.

The weird sleeping patterns, the being so pale, the odd looks he gave when Kanda got a paper cut...

"...Get... Get off. You're not acting like yourself." He couldn't doubt Allen. Even if this __was__ Allen. Even if that paired with confusion was the only reason he hadn't snapped the guy's neck by now. Even-

"Well, I'm not Allen." Oh.

"Excuse me?"

"I said," a giggle, far too dark for the beautiful boy before him. "'I'm __not__ Allen,' or didn't you hear me?"

"Ah," as much as he was hoping to intimidate Kanda, to spook or shock him, he received a chuckle in return. "You shouldn't have told me that part."

Before the vampire knew it, he was suddenly crumpling down.

As all-mighty as you may be, it always hurt to have your balls kicked in.

Hands were on his arms—he was being lifted, flipped. The world was suddenly spinning, and he let out a cry as his side crashed against the carpet. He could faintly hear a dog barking in the background before everything went fuzzy.

"Guess who's a black belt," Kanda now had a foot nestled into the guy's waist. " _ _Bitch.__ "

* * *

Images of gray and black and dust floating by sunshine-opened windows.

The smell of rust, of blood and decay under chipped nails. Rain washes it all away, but when the sun shines, the dirt is back again, and something just as disgusting is dribbling past his lips.

Images of the agony, of the torture of it all.

The transformation: the feeling of one becoming two. The feeling of being split in half—ripped by the same seam again and again and again.

And there was the dribble. The dribble of iron. Liquid copper in his mouth, staining him as a machine.

A soft hand was there, running through his hair. A mirthful tone that did nothing to distract Allen from the dribble, from the drip.

From the thirst and the hunger and the anger and the lust.

The greed and desire for blood.

A glutton in its finest quintessence.

Allen lay, strapped to a clear white bed, the old shack around him in shambles.

There was a cooing Pureblood at his side, and the weening water-iron mixture soon replaced the normal dribble. It was hell—hell on white sheets and hell with all of his limbs strapped down, his mouth held open.

A nightmare, only a memory.

A nightmare—only reality.

A nightmare.

Only still trudging through his life.

When Allen next came to consciousness—because he evidently couldn't withstand a little kick and a little flip—he was somewhere completely unfamiliar.

Well, no, not exactly.

The sheets, the comforter, the floor, the walls, the full-body mirror that he was nothing within, that was all different. It was soft, and it was simple. It felt like an empty house—a half-filled soul. Too modern to be comfortable, too comfortable to be up-to-date. It was a strange atmosphere. Foreign and new. The smooth fabric under his finger tips looked back at his drowsy eyes with pink little lotuses in full bloom, like diluted blood splotches sprouting from the deep blue background of the blanket.

All of this was new, but it had a familiar chilled warmth to it.

The smell, however, was something he and his sharp nose knew well. Coffee, takeout, spearmint, and tea. A splash of rain and a hint of basil.

There's no doubt about it; he was in Kanda's room.

To be specific, since there was a mattress below him, a headboard behind him, and a blanket atop him, he was in Kanda's bed.

His eyes blew wide, the previously hazy consciousness going into overdrive. He didn't understand; the last thing he remembered was getting ready to go over to Kanda's apartment for a movie. He got dressed, took his supplements, and... And...

A delicate knock at the door had Allen scrambling to push himself back under the blankets. He didn't know what else to do. He had to assess the situation before he could face Kanda.

Unfortunately for the boy, the designer wasn't that dumb.

"Rise and shine, morning glory." The door squeaked open, soft and delicate. "It's 6 in the evening. I know you're awake." Allen nervously gripped at the fabric in his hands. What had happened between them?

"A-ah, Kanda, I just, um," he slowly rose from the covers, knowing his rouse was well-over, and flashed a nervous grin at the two grey-blue eyes that were capturing him, shadowed by midnight lashes and illuminated by the peach-colored sunset.

"Pretending to sleep; I know." Kanda walked over to the nightstand, plucking out two small, clear disks from his eyes.

"Y... Yeah... Exactly that." And awkward silence passed between between them as Kanda swapped the contacts for his glasses, and then proceeded to remove his lip piercing. Allen just... Watched. He somewhat felt like he was invading a very private moment of Kanda's life right now. He felt that even more so when the designer just pulled off his shirt, throwing it into the hamper across the room, and worked to undo his belly button piercing. Allen thought he might just die, so he turned away, trying to put it all together again.

He took his supplements... Was about to brush his hair... And then? Then...

"That's the fourth time, isn't it?"

Kanda's voice shocked him out of his briefly-running pondering. He looked over, and was shocked even more to find the guy climbing into bed with only a pair of black boxer briefs.

"Ka-Kanda!?" He was about two seconds away from completely scrambling off the bed, but Kanda merely settled under the covers, not quite looking at Allen yet.

"You don't remember, do you?" And there it was. The stare. The almost plaintive look in those stoic eyes wrenched at the vampire's heart. Oh, God...

"What..." A swallow, harsh and thick: throat dry and throbbing "What did I do?"

Kanda scoffed, the sad expression going away, replaced with his usual fiery sarcasm. "You came onto me, told me you were a vampire, and then tried to suck my blood." The pallor in Allen's face told him everything. He felt he should elaborate. "It wasn't really you, though... At least, that's what you-... They said." Nausea was crawling it's way through the Brit's heart. He was... He... He did...

"You... You're... I didn't-"

"You're not the only one who has taken self defense classes, idiot."

Kanda was playing it off like nothing, maybe trying to skirt around the subject. He never did that. Ever. Kanda was the most direct person he knew, and yet-

"Listen, if you keep making that face, I'll seriously hurt you." He was turning now, his long side fringe following along with his movements as he rested an arm on the headboard. Allen noticed that his hair was now down. "That's what happened. I kicked your ass. That's it." The signature glare was back, and Allen was flicking his eyes to the door. If he ran now, maybe he could... He could... What could he do?

"What d-do you want?"

"...What?"

"To keep quiet about this. You want something, right? I work... I—the government can... Money, f-fame," he was subconsciously gripping at the sheets for dear life. He wanted out so badly, and yet he was anchored here so soundly. Anchored by fear and a terrible sum of doubt, disappointment, and heartbreak. His position—if he lost his cover, then surely, __he__ would come for Allen, and the half-breed would lose precious preparation time.

"Beansprout, are you an idiot? Why the hell would I want something from you?" No treachery lay behind those gunmetal eyes; Allen knew that well—knew Kanda was a man of honor and unbroken promises, but... But...

"You can't just be... Just be __okay__ with me being a __monster__!"

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can and can't be okay with?" Shock. Like lightning striking the ocean—like a single, pillar-like bolt digging through the waves and the dark gallons and the sea life alike in an attempt to reach something at the very bottom. "I don't care what you are. To me, you're just a little Beansprout to whom I credit some fashion inspiration." That took awhile to set in. The gripping was gone, the self-loathing was wavering. Allen felt... Allen felt...

He felt happy.

So he smiled. Grinned even, reaching out to give Kanda's shoulder a punch.

"You're such a selfish idiot. I could have __killed__ you! Four times now!" Admitting that alone affirmed Kanda's evident suspicions regarding Allen's intent the day Lenalee was attacked. The Brit hadn't even noticed the designer knew he was about to be attacked before Lavi opened the door that day; Kanda still, however, didn't seem to mind at all.

"But you didn't. I'm still here. Getting rid of me isn't easy, you know."

"Well __apparently.__ Killing you isn't easy at all."

"No," Kanda's usually stiff shoulders relaxed, slumping almost drowsily. "It's not. It would take more than some overgrown teeth to take me down."

Another witty remark was on the tip of his tongue, but Allen failed to get it out. Instead, his eyes blew wide as a very familiar feeling of hunger overran his mind.

He suddenly remembered why he blacked out.

"Kanda, K-Kanda, I need to go." Surprise, a little hint of fear.

"But you-"

"I-I need—right now I go I have to, I-" Allen already had one leg swung out over the side of the bed when Kanda grabbed his wrist. Right now, the boy was completely overstimulated. He could feel every pulse of Kanda's heartbeat in his thumb, and each time it slammed against his arm, he felt as if a crane was dropping bricks on him from above.

"Wait, Sprout, I-"

"Let go! I can't keep control like this. I need to take-" a sudden pain ripped through his skull.

Supplements.

He couldn't handle another round of them—disgusting, watery, dusty, dry iron building up in his throat. Fangs aching. Eyes screwing tightly in pain.

"Blood. Blood, I need to find someone. I-"

"What about me?" Silence. A clear, bubble of silence—as black as the sea at night—two glowing, red eyes aflame.

A dry swallow.

"You can't."

"I won't get turned, right?"

"You... You," he could feel his chest heaving with the will it took not to just push Kanda down and rip him open. "No, but-"

"Then take mine."

" _ _I__ can't, I-"

"I'm giving you permission!"

The sun was setting.

The sky was a dark mauve. Allen was naturally gravitating towards the other man—towards the human before him.

"I... I don't... It might hurt." And yet both of his hands were now on Kanda's shoulders, and yet both of Kanda's hands were now atop his own.

"That's okay... Just so long as it's you." They both knew what he meant; maybe Allen even more than Kanda himself.

In reality, it was quicker than expected; a few laving drags of a tongue; harsh, sharp pokes like a two-pronged fork; and the feeling of being drawn from.

Emotionally, it felt as if hours were stretching on. It was painful, fire ripping through his flesh, alarms sobbing in his head. He could grit his teeth and bare it if he tried hard enough, but some part of him wasn't prepared for it. His hands twitched, aching to fight back. His throat closed and thorns ripped through it with the instinct to scream. How anyone else managed this, he'd never understand. He never even asked Allen if he would die—he trusted Allen.

Allen, with his averted gazes and little hamster-like mannerisms. Stashing trinkets and money away, eating whatever he was offered and then some. Falling asleep, ungracefully yet beautifully as he sprawled his limbs across Kanda's foldout couch.

It was hard to think of all the good times at the moment—death so easily around the corner. Just a fumble away, a step too large. A gulp too voracious.

To a fault, he trusted Allen. That was already far too obvious. He was just…

Blinded. Blinded by the light peeking out from the shadows in his eyes—the effervescent smile and those crystal clear tears.

Like a record, Allen was playing for him.

Faintly, he thought his life was flashing before his eyes—his life since he knew Allen.

Allen.

Allen...

Allen was...

He was... Pulling away now.

Lightheaded, Kanda struggled to even remain sitting up as Allen's tongue worked its way around his neck to clean up whatever was left. It would have been relaxing, maybe even sensational, if he wasn't about to pass out.

"I think I took a little too much." The confession was sheepish, and through a garbled haze, Kanda could barely understand what it meant.

"Y-Yeah..." Slumped against Allen, the designer continued to pant—something else he failed to notice until just now. Evidently, that wasn't supposed to happen, because now the vampire was panicking.

"K-Kanda? Oi, you're, uh, are you okay? Kanda?"

"I think... Hospital, I need..."

"We can't!" Purely by accident, Allen's sudden stiffening and terrified twitching of his hands caused Kanda to sag over, tumbling to lay on his side. A shaking hand reached up to cover the wound on his left shoulder. Shallow breaths, a strange pallor, glasses crooked, hair disheveled—Kanda looked up to the Brit, an uncharacteristic fear in his eyes.

"If it... Keeps... Bleeding..." Shock, terror—Allen reached down, trembling fingers pulling Kanda's hand away to reveal two blotches of blood.

"I-it shouldn't be. I... I used... I licked it—I-" dragging his tongue across his thumb, Allen reached down once more, rubbing away the two droplets building atop the holes. Another two formed after, and now, even he was panicking.

"That's—I've never seen that before—I..." And he scrambled off the bed, watching as Kanda pathetically tried to sit up.

"Sprout, where are you-"

"Lavi, Lavi—I have to get Lavi!" And he ran out, leaving a disoriented artist behind, blood dribbling down the slope of his collarbone and into the sea of inky hair beneath him.

"Yu! Yu!" When Kanda woke up, he was still in his bed, and he was being shaken by two tan hands on the side of his arms.

"...Lavi?" It was all fuzzy—he couldn't really see. Blinking his eyes excessively, he palmed around the bed, but in a show of courtesy, the redhead slipped his glasses on for him.

"Yu!" And the next thing he knew, he was being crushed in a hug.

"Get off of me!" His arms felt weak—limp at his sides. Kanda had no way to push this guy away, so he just waited until the embrace was over.

"We really thought you were going to die, Yu..." Strangely enough, when Kanda overcame the little daze in his head, he saw tears welling up in Lavi's left eye. It was hard to see, even now. The room felt colder than before, and the tan face before him was lit only by a nearby lamp. He didn't understand what was going on, but he was also too tired to do much more than scan the room, spotting a little Brit stashed away in the corner.

"Beansprout?" And now his eyes were back to Lavi, his own hand rising to a scratch at a collection of pink splotches on his shoulder. "What's going on?"

To say there was a lot of explaining to do would be an understatement.

"So you're __both__ vampires?" Two nods. "That whole licking shit was supposed to heal my neck?" One nod. "It didn't." Another one. "You wrapped it up?" Lavi nodded this time. "And then you noticed a rash." Allen bobbed his head. "And now it itches like __hell.__ " Kanda didn't need a nod to know that much. He was already rubbing the area angrily, trying to get rid of the sensation without tearing his skin off. He was still woozy, but the four cups of orange juice he was given helped drown that out with unprecedented amounts of sugar.

"I think, maybe, you're allergic to us."

"Ah, surprise surprise." Read: not surprised at all.

"Seriously, Yu! I'm trying to explain this."

"And I'm getting it. People just tend to be a little testy after a near-death experience, you know?" He was nearly hissing at this point, and Allen visibly shrunk at those words.

"Yeah, well, it's not going to happen again, right Al?" And for the first time since he woke up, Kanda wore a non-aggressive expression. He looked at the British boy in surprise, but Allen wouldn't meet his eyes back.

"…Right..."

"What's going on?" And now he was looking back to Lavi, that same rage back in his features.

"Al's being sent away. Taking blood from someone when you're such a low rank is-"

"I offered it." Welcome back, Silence. Awkward stares, half-asses glares.

"What do you mean you __offered__ it?"

"I told him to bite me—he looked like shit and said he needed blood."

"...And since when did you know he was a vampire?"

"Since this afternoon."

"How?"

"He-" a glance over to Allen, and hardening in his expression. "…The creepy guy in his body told me."

"You're having trouble with him again?" All eyes were on Allen now, and the Brit crumbled a bit under the pressure.

"It's... Nothing, really, I-"

"Al, if Nea's back, that's definitely __something__!"

"W-we don't know if it's Nea! It might be- might be, uh, j-just my vampire side!"

"Al, you-" before saying anything too big, Lavi turned back to Kanda. The conflicting emotions running across his one green eye were apparent.

"Sorry, Yu, I need a second alone with Allen." His eyes flashed, turned into an iridescent sea foam, and Kanda felt his own eyes widen. He didn't know Lavi some weird, glowing eyeball power.

That reaction seemed to satisfy the redhead. He turned back to Allen, blabbering on about some asshole name Nea who apparently was in Allen's body? Kanda was only half following along since he was told to not listen. Instead, he sipped absentmindedly at his juice.

Nightmares, family betrayal, bodily possession, testing the vampire turning process: Kanda couldn't help but to pay attention to that much. It was kind of interesting. Apparently, some dog bite a few years ago transferred the virus to Allen? But this Nea guy did some special bullshit to possess the dog? And now he was aiming to possess Allen? That was some fucked up shit.

The two eventually reached a small pause in their conversation, and Kanda took that as a cue to raise his voice.

"Hey, Sprout, can you get me another glass?" He was holding out his cup innocently enough, but it snapped the two vampire's attention to him so violently that he would have thought he himself was a murderer. He merely furrowed his brow at the men, unsure of what else to do.

"...Lavi, I thought-"

"I did." Okay, so, no juice. He took the cup back to himself, confused and a bit frustrated.

"Was I supposed to leave? You could have at least fucking told me." That would have made a lot of sense if it wasn't for the fact that he could barely sit up right now.

"...Yu, hold still."

"Hold-" he silenced himself as a hand landed atop his thigh. Kanda was seated legs outstretched with his back against the headboard, and Lavi was all the way at the foot of his bed a fraction of a second ago. "H-how-" this time he was cut off by a kiss. A kiss that he, once again, did not agree to. Shocked and angry, he attempted to push Lavi away with one hand, the other gripping his glass. He felt a lot like he did hours before.

This sucked.

"Mm! Mmmhmmhmm," but nothing he did would get Lavi off. Allen was doing jack-shit, and this red-headed fucker was suddenly shoving his tongue past Kanda's lips. No, oh no no no. Not again.

"Lav-" Allen's warning came too late; Kanda had already crashed his glass against Lavi's head, using the distraction to push the guy away as he scrambled over to the other side of the bed, dizzy and a victim to terrible, shallow breathing.

Allen was trouble enough, but Lavi was just as strong if not stronger than him normally. If he broke out into some crazy vampire assault-

"Kanda! Kanda, calm down." And now Allen was on his side, a hand on his shoulder and concern in his eyes.

"Calm down? How do you expect... Me..." He was panting now, the same pallor from earlier back with a vengeance. He didn't let that stop him from glaring at the star-struck Lavi across his mattress. "You bastard!" He really was in no position to provoke another attack: half sucked dry, sitting in his underwear and a long, soft cardigan on the edge of his bed with nothing but a little Sprout to help him out. That kind of disadvantage, however, never stopped him before.

"Yu, Yu calm down, I'm sorry. I-"

"What the fuck are you doing?! Don't come any closer!" So Lavi stood still, his eye locked onto his panicked and disheveled friend.

"Let me explain, alright?"

"You have exactly one minute."

"Saliva—vampires have special chemicals in their saliva. It's like an opiate to humans. Calms them, numbs them, makes them tired. It also clots wounds. We use it to stop panicking and pain, but..." He trailed off, and the sudden halting of his quick speech sat heavily over the room. "You didn't... React to it... __or__ the stare."

"...That weird shit you did with your eye?"

"Yeah, that." Kanda was relaxed now. That made sense, and it also explained why Allen... Nea? was so intent on kissing him earlier.

"None of that does anything to me."

"I __know__ it doesn't, Yu. That's the problem." Lavi took his friend's absent panic as an opportunity to circle around the mattress, the back of his hand brushing back Kanda's bangs in order to check his temperature.

It was obvious by his disposition that he trusted Lavi much more than he put on, and Allen watched the exchange in slight envy. He very obviously underestimated just how much faith the designer had in him as well.

"When you've regained your strength, I'm going to ask for a blood sample." Of course, when you're a vampire, that sounds pretty suspicious, so Lavi immediately cleared up Kanda's dubious gaze. "A scientific sample. From a syringe." A nod, and then the redhead was looking at Allen. "Let's go get Yu some juice, alright?"

"Some juice" entailed an hour-long interrogation about everything vampire-related. In the end, Lavi wasn't happy with the results he received. Allen seemed to be losing what consciousness he gained back from Nea, and that alone was scary. To think of the repercussions it would have on the rest of the vampire world... That was terrifying.

"I can't believe this worked." Lavi sat, his head in his hands, at the kitchen table while Allen fumbled around with the orange juice that should have been in to Kanda over and hour ago.

"I think, maybe, we should... We should..." He turned back to Lavi, a terribly sad expression on his face. "Destroy the evidence." Arms were around the boy in seconds, and a shaking, messed-up half breed was sobbing into the Pureblood's chest.

"Al, c'mon. We're not killing you just because of this."

"But what if it happens to others?" Vampire-turning ceremonies were sacred, consensual exchanges of blood to and from both parties. This—this method that was used in desperation to turn Allen—could prove to be disastrous if used with malicious intentions.

A vampire, on the brink of death, could surpass it all just by using an animal as a middle stage, and not only turn a human, but also take them over.

"It won't. We'll keep it under wraps. We have for this long." Voices soft, lightning dim, the two stood hugging for quite some time. Ultimately, though, Allen's loathing won over the calm.

"I don't want to be a vampire anymore, Lavi."

"I know, Al. I know." Lavi's chin was on the little guy's shoulder, and his eye was staring blankly at the cream walls around them. He knew Allen well—knew his dreams, his hopes, his intentions—but maybe even more so, he knew that feeling.

The desire to be human.

"Let's get this to Yu, okay?" He __had__ been waiting an hour after all. Allen smiled, squeezing that broad chest before him and humming out an agreement.

Considering it was well into the night by now, the fact that Kanda was asleep when they returned wasn't unexpected. That meant his glass of juice had to be back into the fridge, though. Lavi did that. Allen stayed behind to watch over the little designer.

Delicately, he took the titled glasses from Kanda's face, setting them on the nearby nightstand. The TV went off as well, and Allen was now sitting on the edge of the bed. Before him lay a sweet and awful person.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand, fingers only lightly combing valleys through inky hair at first. It was his right hand, the one that he could still feel through. The human hand. Well, somewhat human.

Even now, hours after his meal, Allen could tell he drank a bit too much. Kanda was lucky to be alive right now, especially since he was apparently allergic to vampire spit. The rash on his neck-

Wait.

Where was the rash?

He was certain he bit Kanda's right shoulder, so where?

In the back of his head, he knew he should get Lavi, but he didn't. He wanted one last moment alone together like this with Kanda. If the higher ups caught wind of this, Allen might be pulled from his mission altogether. With any luck, they'd just relocate him.

He didn't want to be relocated, though. He wanted to be here, with Kanda. Here in a stable life—a normal, human life.

Pale fingertips softly touched the little cotton bandage they had applied a short time before. The tape was weak, so he had no problem easily peeling it off. He expected to see two black dots staring back at him, but instead, there was nothing.

Kanda's wound was completely healed.

Now, vampire saliva did help clotting wounds, but he had never known it to make them heal so quickly. It was odd enough to make Allen know he _ _needed__ to get Lavi.

The redhead didn't know what to make of it either. In his decades of life, he'd never seen this happen once. He had personally drawn from many men and women and everything in between, but Kanda's reaction was completely unique.

"I'll have Lenalee report this to the higher-ups." Because he truly couldn't do much more than that. There was nothing to do besides that. Allen knew, but that doesn't mean he was happy about it.

This really could be the last time he ever saw Kanda. Half-breeds like him weren't supposed to draw blood without Pureblood permission. Not only did he not receive that, but Lavi even told him specifically not to target Kanda. He was doomed.

"Yeah, maybe they'll know what's happening..." Quite frankly, you'd have to be beyond dense to not notice the longing look behind those silver eyes, how they now dulled to a somber grey.

Lavi cared for Yu—cared for him as a best friend—even if they've only known each other for a few years.

He cared for Allen too, and although weeks prior to this, he thought he knew what was best for the both of them, now he wasn't so sure.

Actually, that's a lie.

He __was__ sure—sure that his his previous thoughts on the matter were completely wrong.

He had some serious thinking to do, but for now, Allen needed a nap, and he needed to read up some more on rare case records.

Headquarters was an intimating place for most, but for Lenalee Lee it was merely another trip to see her brother at his job. Lavi had given her some rather interesting information recently, along with research and theories, and she was to report them all to Komui in a neat, organized manner.

As intelligent as Lavi was, he sometimes failed to compile his thoughts in a way that made sense.

"Officer Lee, reporting for duty," she spoke with a salute that truly wasn't necessary, "sir." The desk before her was cluttered in an assortment of documents and pens. From behind it, popped the very familiar head of her dearest older brother, who was far too excited to see her.

"Lenalee!" Formalities aside, he nearly leapt across his desk to give her a hug, squeezing her intensely and leaving her no choice but to squeeze back.

"Ah, brother, you really are a handful." A sigh, a giggle, and the embrace was done.

"How are you feeling, Lenalee?"

"I keep telling you, I'm fine." Untangling from the hug, she offered up both a smile and a manila folder. "The vampire that attacked me didn't know what he was getting himself into."

"What's this?" Happy she was alright, the man's dark eyes landed upon the files. He took them jovially, and began to flip through.

"A new lead."

"Lead?" A little nod, short green hair swishing in an adorable manner. The determination behind her violet eyes, however, kept Komui from gushing out again.

"For the cure."

* * *

When Allen woke up, it was due to a disgusting lurch in his stomach. He was off his bed in seconds, retching into a small wastebasket. His throat felt like it was on fire, the sensation of sharp shrapnel mixed with sand tightening around his esophagus with every tightening of his chest.

A puddle of spit sat at the bottom of the otherwise empty, plastic bag. A few tears slipped down to join it, dully rippling the clouded surface, bubbling separately in it like water in oil.

He couldn't understand what was happening. Everything in his body felt like it was being twisted and turned. Even his bones ached.

His bones especially ached.

Yet he could do no more than dry heave into this basket and hope for the best. After strictly months on the high-strength supplements, it was no wonder that a large dose of real, fresh, human blood was making him react this way, but something was still __off.__

If it was really Kanda's blood upsetting his stomach, why couldn't he just throw it up?

Was it simply because his body was too starved?

In all honesty, it didn't matter why. It mattered that he was now stuck here, for a collective few hours before he was finally able to stand without spitting up absolutely nothing but spit.

He took the opportunity to down two whole bottles of water, nearly wobbling on his way back to his bedroom. Maybe he should visit Lavi. The Pureblood would know what to do.

Baggy jeans, an over-sized hoodie, and sneakers: Allen wasn't going out today. Not after waking up like that.

He shuffled out of his apartment, fully intending to head down to Lavi's floor when suddenly, a familiar scent came to his attention.

Well, more like it hit him like a wall.

He turned his head, the scent of blood seeping through Kanda's door. Maybe it was from just throwing up, or maybe it was because he just drank a few hours ago, but for once, Allen wasn't hungry. No, he was scared. A primal instinct enveloped him; he sensed danger. A dread in the air. Yesterday he thought he had resolved to not speak to the designer until the reports went through. He couldn't face the man with the threat of being pulled away at any second looming over him, but now... Now he didn't have a choice.

"Kanda! Kanda!" And he was knocking on the door, panicked. He heard swearing, shuffling. He sighed, feeling disappointment in his own cowardice. Stepping back, he took in a deep breath as the door opened.

Only, it was Lavi, not Kanda that answered.

"A-Al!"

"L-Lavi," slow steps back, eyes widened in horror. Allen stared up at the redhead, __terrified__.

Terrified of the smudged red stain on his bottom lip.

He looked confused. Confused as if he didn't know exactly why Allen was locked onto his lips.

The Pureblood raised a hand, touched the stain, and seemed to suddenly realize everything.

"Al, A-Al wait, it's not what you-"

"You're going to kill him!" He tried to rush through the door, but the taller vampire held him back, held him at bay.

"Al! Just calm down! I'm-"

"Don't touch me! You know if you take more blood so soon-"

"Al!"

"Beansprout?" Like a kick to a row of dominos, Kanda's head suddenly popping up behind Lavi's shoulder nearly had Allen toppling over. Thankfully, the redhead had a firm grip on his shoulders.

Ignoring the tears in those silver eyes, Lavi gave Allen a reassuring grin. "Let me explain."

"So you think he's somehow blessed by a..."

"A Shtriga!" Lavi, animatedly hopped around, switching between taking swabs of Allen's tongue and Kanda's tongue. The designer didn't seem to mind, too busy trying to hide the fact that he was half-staring at Allen.

"And that means?"

"Shtriga, or I guess, in Yu's case-" a low growl from said man "Shtrigu are these terrible, scary old people who walk around and transform people into vampires!" And of course, what was a demonstration without over-exaggerated motions and generally stupid expressions?

"Kanda might be as grumpy as an old man, but I don't-" the pillow and several curses thrown at him only made him laugh, sticking his tongue out defiantly at a pissed-off fashion designer.

"No, no, I'm not saying Yu" Kanda had just given up at this point " _ _is__ one, I'm saying he was given one's powers."

"So... He turns people into vampires?" The "spooky" spidering of Lavi's fingers halted, and he let out a laugh.

"I'm not sure! He's never tried to suck anyone's blood out, believe it or not!" Tapping his chin, tilting his head to the side, he looked to Kanda as if asking for permission. The shrug he received in return was as good as a yes. "Kanda said a girl who was rumored to be a spirit orphanage once blessed him. Usually, Shtriga aren't so friendly, so I doubted it at first, but this will be the ultimate test!" His index finger tapped playfully at his lips before abruptly whipping away from his face. This time, he pointed to Allen in a burst of excitement. "But! You already kissed __him__ and sucked __his__ blood!"

"I... Did... So?"

"You look like shit today!"

"L-Lavi!"

"What happened when you woke up?"

"I..." A glance between the two men. Kanda was sitting on the other side of the couch, doing the same as Allen, and Lavi was excitedly bursting on the floor before them. "Dry heaved... For a long time."

"And how hungry are you right now?" He wiggled his brows and gestured over to Kanda, who was currently rubbing his wrist, the small bandage there rather itchy. He seemed irritated, but anyone would in a room full of asshole vampires who were talking about you as if you were food.

"I'm not hungry at all! I told you, I nearly threw up toda-"

"Extend your fangs, Allen!" A silence suddenly engulfed the room. Seconds ticked by. Three eyes locked onto the Brit, and he suddenly felt pinned up on some display case.

"I..." Desperate, confused, shocked, a hand came up to feel at his cheeks. Wide eyes looked to Lavi, then to Kanda. "I can't."

"Precisely! Not only does a Shtriga have the ability to make vampires, apparently if they spit in their mouth, they can cure them too!"

"C-cu... 'Cure'?!"

"Yeah! I'm absolutely certain you're in the process of being healed! Since I already kissed Yu yesterday, but I'm still a vampire, I think it has something to do with a combination of both blood drinking and saliva!" Part of Lavi knew that later on, he was going to get infinite loads of shit for letting the organization's secret weapon go, but after last night—after hearing the despair and longing in Allen's voice as he sought to be human—Lavi decided that even if he could have gone back and prevented this, he wouldn't have done it.

Allen was currently confused—overwhelmed and confused. There's no way... So easily? Impossible.

"Either that or it's because I'm a Pureblood... I'm not sure yet! That's why I took a tiny sample from Yu's wrist!"

His hands dug themselves into the material of his pull-over hoodie, trying to feel for a heartbeat, for anything to show he had actually changed.

"If I start throwing up soon, we'll know why!" Even the sunny laughter from Lavi didn't break him from his trance. Everything else seemed to fade. He couldn't believe it—believe his own warmth—believe the ability to breathe somewhere with blood still in the air.

Concrete, pulling him back to reality, a hand was on his shoulder. He jolted up, frightened, but when he looked, it was just Kanda.

Kanda, who was sitting much closer than earlier now.

Yet before he could speak, another hand was on his cheek, tilting his head up slightly, and their lips were meeting.

Thick black lashes drooped over blue eyes before him, and Allen felt his nerves suddenly freeze.

The melting sensation that followed was one of the most pleasant he had ever felt in his life.

He tenderly placed both of his own hands on the designer's chest as their gentle kiss continued. Normally contact right after a burst of anxiety spelled nothing but panic, but the way Kanda was pulling him closer was producing quite the opposite.

The embrace might have gone of for minutes, maybe hours longer if it hadn't been for a certain redhead awkwardly clearing his throat. Allen jumped, and Kanda took that as his cue to slowly pull away.

"Back on planet Earth with us, Beansprout?" He was trying to smirk—that was easy to tell—but instead treated the Brit to front row seats of a genuine, mirthful smile.

"I-I..." And he felt his own cheeks begin to flush, eyes now going back and forth between Kanda's beautiful expression and Lavi's knowing grin. He just wanted to die. "Ugh!" And now both hands were on his face, and the other two occupants were laughing. The moment was light and beautiful, and even as Allen found himself withering in embarrassment, he too was laughing.

Soft, like three souls pattering their wings.

And like the soft hits against the wind as they land, their laughter faded to silence.

Not uncomfortable, not friendly, just silence.

Like the calm before a storm silence.

Silence that was suddenly disrupted by a knocking at the door.

Yet it wasn't Kanda's door, but instead the neighbor's. Two questioning glances traveled to Allen, but he could only produced a bewildered shrug back.

* * *

Panic. That was certainly the most poignant thing in Lenalee's mind. How anyone could get coordinates on one of their agents, she had no idea. She was running, now, though, unable to do anything but watch as images of her dear friends being torn apart flash before her eyes. Lavi was strong, sure, but Allen was just a rookie. Kanda wasn't even a vampire. She had to get there before he did. She just __had__ to.

It was only blocks away now. Lavi was wrong to suggest Allen for this job. She knew the moment she meant him he wasn't strong enough, wasn't immersed enough into their system to succeed. Like with everyone, she did her best to give him the benefit of the doubt, but even if he __was__ their only option left, he was under-qualified at best.

A block now. She could make it if she sprinted.

Loaded gun in hand, nothing but determination in her heart, Lenalee Lee nearly shattered as a large figure abruptly shot out of the, what was that, 8th floor?

She screamed in time to see the body land one a nearby truck, smashing the hood in completely. Panic nearly flew her over, and she was scaling the car to help the victim—Lavi—in no time. He seemed to be struggling to say something, fingers barely twitching as an unfocused eye looked blearily up to the shattered glass frame.

"Al... And Yu..." He coughed, but Lenalee was gone, leaving the redhead to heal on his own. Vampires were rather good at regeneration after all. For now, she, a human trained for years in keeping vampire order, had to help her friends.

Everything had happened in a flash. Lavi had peeked a head out to ask what was wrong, nearly flew back in after slamming shut and locking the door, and began to usher both Allen and Kanda to the bedroom. The knocking picked up again, this time on __their__ door, and Lavi had barely gotten the two inside (with growled out protests and angry questions) before the wood was kicked in, splintering chips everywhere and covering the carpeted floor in a ugly bloom of brown.

Laughter. A dark tone. A sudden, all-engulfing smell of cigarette smoke.

"Long time no see, Eyepatch." And there, before him in all of his sharp-dressed, Portuguese glory, was one of the most prominent members of the Noah. A brief pause as Lavi steeled his nerves. Allen drinking Kanda's blood still didn't affect him for a few hours. He wasn't even a Pureblood, either. Either way, the redhead should have plenty of time for this.

Unless, of course, the reaction only came faster to those with higher ranks.

He didn't have time to think pessimistically right now; he managed a half-hearted laugh, an anxious grin.

"Maybe we should have kept it a little longer," Lavi was immediately in a defensive stance. He couldn't win in a one-on-one fight with a Noah—even as a Pureblood, he was outranked—but with any luck he could lead the man away from the _ _two__ humans in the bedroom right behind him and get some help.

"I'm hurt, really," tan hands came down to dust off the white fabric of his shirt, and he glanced around the already wrecked apartment before landing once more on Lavi. "What, does your lover live here or something?"

"Lover?" He would have laughed if he wasn't terrified. "I wouldn't say that." Despite his defensive stance, he began to creep forward, cool and cautious. The other man could only smirk, refusing to budge.

"Well, the boy lives right next door, right? What, another ally? Back up?" Cracked knuckles, cracked neck, "The boy's lover?"

"Pretty sure Al's not in that kind of relationship either."

"You still think of him as Allen Walker? You __do__ have too much hope for him." Despite Lavi's effort, the Noah hadn't moved, merely standing there, sweeping back his black, curly hair.

"Believe it or not, it's just two humans. Smell the air, Tyki."

"Are you honestly trying to back me out? You?" Shit—their conversation completely flopped. Lavi was still now, stuck in place, terrified but playing it off with a grin.

"You __seriously__ want to fight in this cramped place? Can't we take this-" before he could blink, a hand was around his skull, and he was being thrown back with such a great force that he must have looked like a rag doll. His head cracked into the same door he was guarding earlier. The worst part is that he made a much better projectile than he did a shield. There was a gaping hole in the white wood, a voice calling to him from the other side of it.

A very familiar, light tenor with the cutest hint of a British accent.

Now, finally, Tyki strolled in, clicking his tongue.

"How awful. You lied to me; I can't believe it." He stopped his intimidating stroll only when the faint annoyance of a yapping reached his ears. He looked to the side, now smirking. "And he has a __dog.__ How precious." The moment he turned to the little creature in the rather large and luxuriously furnished cage, however, would prove fatal.

The door was open in a split second, Lavi falling like a dead weight on the floor. Behind Tyki now stood who he could only identify as a human, judging by the scent.

"Do __not__ touch the dog." Oh, wow, today was just a field trip, now wasn't it? He laughed, shook his head, and turned. Some man, his haired tied back in a casual ponytail and his body covered in delicate, pristine, yet casual clothing was facing him, and so was the tip of a rather impressive-looking single-edged sword.

"Ah, I'm supposed to be intimidated, correct?" But when he turned completely, the blade was directly against his throat. He almost faltered, almost lost the confidence that he usually exuded at the sight of those glowing, azure eyes. They almost looked white. It was quite the impressive sight.

Instead, he grinned, a hand coming up to delicately rest against the dull side of the katana.

"Hello, Mr. Kitchen Knife. I presume this place is yours?"

"And you're stinking it up." A swing, too fast for a normal human, and Tyki was barely able to dodge—less from inability and more from surprise. He was fast and skilled, even though he was wielding what appeared to be an antique. The two sparred, going back and forth and back and forth. Into the kitchen, a two-man parade of slashes, hits, dodging.

Allen might have gone mad from his own bottomless uselessness if it wasn't for Lavi's sudden stumble back up, suddenly coughing, hands at his throat. His legs could barely support him, but Allen was there to lift him the rest of the way.

"Y-Yu! Yu, you can't win, you have to-" another fit of wheezes and gasps. Mismatched hands scrambled to catch his pathetic display, but after a particularly loud crash from the kitchen. Tyki was back, and he was looking more pissed than ever.

"Using these pathetic people as your shields won't stop me," for the first time in his entire life, Allen wished he had the powers that came with being a vampire again. Before he could even cry out, a sound kick to Lavi's chest propelled the man out the window in the bedroom. The Brit screamed, only to have his neck snatched by the Noah before him. "Nea." He couldn't breath, could only struggle and claw and kick as he was lifted.

Noah were a completely different type of vampire. Essentially, the strongest Purebloods imaginable. A family of the oldest vampires still alive.

The vampire that took over his body—the vampire that broke from the required ceremony of blood pacts and consent that came with a transformation— _ _Nea__ was one of them.

It's the only reason Allen was assigned to pursuing Tyki; he was the only vampire strong enough on their side to dent the man.

"How does it feel? Tell me." The grip tightened. Allen would start slipping any second. "Knowing you killed half of our family? Know that you had to forcibly possess a pathetic human __child__ just to escape the consequences of your own inane actions?" There was murder in his glowing gold eyes, but Allen couldn't say anything. Not only was his throat constricted, but his other half, Nea, hadn't been able to speak since after he got sick.

Tyki was unknowingly talking to just another human.

Tyki was unknowingly __killing__ just another human.

Not that he would mind the second part—seeing as that was his strategy for drawing Allen out anyway. If he committed so many unauthorized kills in a public area, the organization would have no choice but to send their black lamb under a white coat to the slaughter.

Now, the lamb couldn't even squeal, lashes shower fluttering in a show of a soul escaping, the death of Hope in his eyes.

"Honestly, getting so upset at the Noah just for killing your lover by mistake?" The grip was getting tighter and tighter. "Wasn't it all a bit __much__?"

An extra crunch and it would all be over, but the only sound that met his ears was a squelch, followed by a panting he had somehow missed earlier. His fingers twitched, Allen was dropped from his hand, and the new focus in his field of vision was a silver sliver slipping through his stomach from behind.

The pain was excruciating, but he was a vampire. This was nothing as far as permanent injury went.

"And here I thought I killed you." He sighed, a cacophony of coughs erupting before him as he turned to deliver a swift kick to the man, barely held up on his knees, behind him. Honestly, the mess of bloody hair and red-stained clothes shouldn't be alive; he could have sworn his skull was cracked open against the kitchen counter. "Pity you couldn't just use your second chance to run." Reaching back with a click of his tongue, one eye closed in pain, he slid the blade out as best as possible, wounds closing almost instantly. His shirt was ruined now, though. How annoying.

Clothes aside, he tossed the blade down at the designer's side, watching and listening as his chest struggled to rise and fall further. He was one his side, hair clumped with blood and spread around him. He was __still__ alive. Struggling, but alive. Whatever, that wasn't important. He wasn't even moving at this point. Tyki needed to focus on what was important.

Nea was here—before him at this very moment. He wouldn't miss this opportunity.

"Seems Allen Walker has some pretty loyal, __foolish__ friends." A low hum vibrated in his throat as he turned. He decided to crouch down to Allen's level, watching as the boy gasped for air still, eyes struggling to see past Tyki to Kanda. Lavi would be just fine—even a half breed could survive a fall like that. From what he knew, though, Kanda's body was just like a human's.

In the Noah's opinion, his fearful gazes where only missing the real problem here. In the end, Nea's human host was just as foolish as the man he just knocked the shit out of.

"Shame I couldn't get to know you better, really. You seem like a decent guy." Nimble, tan fingers gripped into the fabric of Allen's hoodie, gold eyes glowing. "Now, let Nea come out to play. You have no place here anymore." Terror quickly morphed into the most intimidating face Allen had ever pulled.

"He's... Not here anymore!" Hoarse, scratchy, his voice came in and out, but Tyki only chuckled. He wouldn't buy such an obvious lie.

"It's nothing personal, boy," his hand shifted, grabbing Allen's jaw with an abusive force. "I just need to see N-" the moment crumbled as soon as a choked gasp escaped his tan lips. Eyes wide, his head slowly turned down, pinpoint-pupils fixated on the wound he had received earlier from the designer. The sudden rush of pain was not only unexpected but also seemingly without a cause.

All contact with Allen ended, and he stumbled backwards, all semblance of any earlier charm and confidence leaving him as he felt around desperately on his stomach. This pain—this pain was so __intense__. His mind was filled with static, hands twitching as they tried to ground themselves by gripping the fabric of his dress shirt.

It was all for nothing. A hiss left his lips, and he tried to stand.

Nea could wait.

He knew where to find him, knew his friends, his associates; tracking him down once more would be child's play.

Allen was left panting and coughing on the ground, trying to find it in himself to move. The last time he felt this weak was during his transformation. He almost wanted it back.

Tyki should have been his main focus, but between glancing to the window and staring over at the slumped form that was Kanda, he decided that the Noah could definitely fall on his list of priorities.

Panic, terror, pain—the moment was in slow-motion.

Tyki finally stood.

Kanda began to push himself off of the ground.

Allen reached out to him.

A bullet whizzed through the apartment.

Lenalee shouted from the doorway, and soon a net was over the Noah's form. Allen tried to speak, tried to form words, tried to explain to the officer shaking his shoulder, but a look over at Kanda, now awake and breathing if only barely, put his mind to rest. The last thing he saw was that small little puppy licking at Kanda's hand, and that was such a pleasant note to pass out on.

* * *

When Allen next regained consciousness, he could see only white walls, white sheets, white tiles, white sunlight. He saw white, heard a constant, steady beeping, and breathed in cool air. Tired, silver eyes searched around, and he found that the cream curtains, drawn back to let in the sun, were billowing so beautifully that he couldn't help but to feel entranced by them.

Birds—he could hear birds too. It was almost as if he was waking up to a whole new world, to a whole new person, to a whole new __life__.

How long he stayed in that state of wonder—looking at the less-than pure white curtains dancing around in the new light—was a mystery even to him, but the only thing that could bring him out of it was a light knock on the door. For the first time, Allen registered that he was laying down, but trying to sit up only made him dizzy. Instead, he croaked out a "come in" as the door was already in progress of opening.

The blond seemed surprised to receive any type of response, much less to see the patient to try sit up after days of inactivity.

"Please, Walker, don't push yourself." Calm steps over, a few buttons pushed, and suddenly Allen was rising. Well, his bed was, at least. That certainly took much less effort than his previous attempts.

"Ah, can I..." and he watched as the nurse adjusted the IV he was apparently hooked up to. "Can I ask where I am? And who you are?" His memory was fuzzy—in fact, the last thing he remembered was... was...

"Wh-where's Lavi? Lenalee? Is Kanda okay? Where-"

"Walker, please," a gentle yet firm hand was placed on his chest, and he was softly pushed back into the now mostly vertical section of his bed.

"But-"

"You're at a hospital. A small hospital specifically run for vampire and lycan kind." Even while explaining, the nurse continued to adjust some equipment, jot down some notes, and set aside some medicine. "You suffered some minor injuries, but you've been asleep for a few days now. I'd expect no less than exhaustion after having most of your vampire DNA eliminated from your body." Okay. Yeah, that was definitely too much information too quickly. He just woke up from his brain being fried; couldn't this guy talk a bit slower?

"...Most of it?"

A sigh followed. "Yes, well, they'll explain this all later, I'm sure, but your friend, Kanda Yu, he had the blessings of a Shtriga." Now done with his work, the nurse seemed hesitant to stay much longer, but easily lost that train of thought when he saw the impossibly inquisitive gaze Allen was sending his way. "Basically... A mix of his saliva and his blood can cure vampirism from even Purebloods. Your friend Lavi-" once more he was pushing Allen to relax, "who is __fine__ by the way, proved that. He barely had enough time to heal before his DNA was also altered. In fact, his arm is still broken." Allen supposed it could have been a lot worse, but he still exuded a strong message of guilt. His brain was slowly but surely beginning to work again. He needed to wake up enough to remember all of this.

A hand traveled up to his neck, feeling the bruised skin with a slightly pained expression. The nurse seemed to notice, and he took the burden upon himself to speak more, to try and get the British boy's thoughts off of the matter at hand.

"However, even though you're a half-breed, because a Noah bypassed the consent contract by transferring his soul into a dog and then into you, it seems that you weren't fully healed." That had the opposite of his desired effect. Allen's face morphed into an unmistakable dread, and he looked ready to cry.

"So... I'm still a vampire?"

"No, not quite." Great, now he had to placate the kid. "It's more like... you have the genes still, but the actual cells that vampires have to break down hemoglobin into higher nutrition have become mostly dormant. They may awaken more over time, but they may also die completely. On top of that... we have no way of knowing what became of Nea's soul or how it will affect your quality of life." A quick adjustment of his thick-rimmed glasses, and a skeptical glance with his intense, crimson eyes. "If ever the issue should arrive again where you have the same vampire urges, then you are under command to drink from Kanda Yu once more." An almost comfortable quiet settled in, and the nurse turned to leave, but yet again, was stopped by Allen's voice.

"So Kanda is okay?" A pause. "What about Lenalee? Tyki?"

"'Tyki?'" That judging look was back. "Kanda is fine, Ms. Lee sustained no injuries at all, and Tyki is still a vampire, but he's suffering from somehow circulating Kanda's blood through his system."

"He bit Kanda?"

"No, actually, we believe it was due to Kanda Yu's blood being on the weapon that pierced Tyki's stomach." Allen was definitely happy he was getting answers, and felt much more at ease, but he wondered just where the confidentiality border lay.

"So... where is Tyki now? What's going to happen to him?"

"Sorry, Walker, that information is strictly confidential." __Ah, there it was.__

"Well, can you at least tell me your name?" Since he was a fairly new entrant in the world-wide government-run vampire organization, he learned not to let confidentiality deter him anymore.

"My name? I'm Howard Link, your nurse." He nodded formally before making his way to the door. "By the way, Walker," a hand on the exit, he looked back to the patient with a sigh. "I hope you don't mind visitors. You certainly have a flood of them."

* * *

It was a few days later, out in the suburbs and in a large, luxurious villa. The sun was setting, and the breeze was warm. Summer would fade soon, and fall would roll in with a calm, crisp air and a slew of new opportunities. The sheer amount of jobs he was offered was almost scary, but in the end, he was content with staying to be the piano player at a local high-end bar. The pay was great, and the vacation days were flexible, which was why he could be here now, sitting in the private garden and overlooking a koi pond, admiring the lotus leaves that rose above the water.

His piano-playing ability was only one of the many new aspects of himself that he's grown to love now that fighting Nea wasn't always in the forefront of his mind. It was more like a peaceful partnership at this point, and the other soul residing inside him was almost always dormant. In fact, that's all he asked from Allen: to be able to play the piano.

To play a requiem for his past love.

The human received the best deal of his life.

How long had it been? How long had it been since Allen could stand under the sun without pain and irritation? How long had it been since he could stare down into a pond like this and see his own reflection stare back. The marred, tattoo-covered scar, the white hair, the pale skin, the mercury eyes—he was thankful for every freakish feature. Thankful for being able to be himself once more.

With a mirthful laugh, his eyes suddenly left the pond to fixate on his small, golden corgi. Timcampy was dancing around, nudging his hand and demanding to be adored, so Allen did what he could and pet the fuzzy little ball of energy. Tim had been nearly attached to his side ever since he was released from the hospital, so he expected as much. What he didn't expect, however, was the two extra sets of paws on his other leg. He looked over, and surely enough, Golem was practically digging at his lap, but the large husky was merely tapping him with his paws, blue eyes level with Allen's.

"What, what? You want attention too?" He didn't have three hands, but he did his best to alternate, eventually unintentionally inciting a little competitive play session between Tim and Golem, while Mugen merely mercilessly licked at his cheek. With the Brit laughing so adorably, though, it was no wonder why Kanda had to make his way out to the private garden to take a peek at what was going on.

"Trying to steal away my dogs, I see." Three sets of ears perked up in an impossibly cute manner. Allen let out a few more giggles as he turned to face their new guest.

Well, truly, Allen was the guest here.

"Mm, just maybe, __BaKanda__." He stuck his tongue out, sliding it back in just in time to be drowned once more in another session of husky kisses.

"Looks more like they're trying to steal you, __Moyashi__." A few simple Japanese words taught to Allen, and of course the two only used the insults. That didn't stop Kanda from taking a seat on the other side of Allen, only to soon be drowned in little puppy kisses and a husky stepping on the Brit's legs to reach his owner's face. They were both laughing now, soon easily knocked over by the excited husky, and at the mercy of three jovial dogs.

The sky was pink before the little pets finally became disinterested enough to paw at the surface of the pond rather than their owners, and both the pianist and the designer lay on the ground, catching their breath after such a long session of laughter. Hand in hand, they did their best to look across to the other and glare, but each time there was a twitch, a melt, and suddenly a grin, a smile. Still determined though, Kanda brought his elbow up to nudge at Allen's side. It was reciprocated from a similar nudge from the Brit.

After so many bumps and prods and chuckles, the two ended up laying on their sides, nose-to-nose, and bickering out meaningless insults at each other.

"Short-shit."

"Thick-skull."

"Pipsqueak."

"Brick wall."

"Beansprout."

"Idiot." They kissed, the scent of freshly-cut grass right beneath them and the wet evening dew already soaking at the sides of their clothing. The only thing they remained aware of, however, was each other, and admittedly, that lead them to getting a bit closer.

Much closer when Allen was suddenly pulled atop the designer. The moment was completely intimate—isolated and private and loving.

Because of that, however, the two were utterly shocked when a whistle suddenly sounded out from the back porch. Kanda's adoptive brother, Daisya, sat in his wheelchair, a smug expression on his face as he watched the two jump and scramble around. Allen rolled off, sat up, face red, and scooped up his dog quickly, hoping to somehow hide his embarrassment with Tim's companionship. Kanda, on the other hand, adjusted his low ponytail, snarling and managing to stand up once more without any unfortunate grass stains before beginning to march over, fully intending to kick his brother's ass.

"Hey, c'mon c'mon, I was only having fun. You wouldn't hit a guy in a wheelchair, would you?" Arrogant laughter followed, and it was all Allen could do to not encourage his boyfriend to completely beat Daisya up. "Geez, geez, you'd think you two would learn how to take a joke after all this time," he rolled his eyes just before getting a flick to the forehead from Kanda.

"You asshole, we were in the middle of something."

"Yeah, I know. If I would have taken any longer, __you__ would have been in the middle of __him__."

"Why you-"

"C'mon, Kanda, no murdering me yet! I have a big game coming up I have to coach; you know that!" But his brother's gaze didn't waver, and soon two silver eyes joined to rip him apart as well. He could only sigh, scratching at his tan cheek in exasperation. "If you won't do it for me, at least save the murder for tomorrow for Tiedoll's sake. He's so proud your first line caught on so well." Daisya's eyes landed briefly upon Allen. He was proud about him too, but that was far too obvious with how many pictures Tiedoll had already taken of the two. "He asked me to come out and get you guys for dinner."

"...I told him he didn't have to cook for us..."

"That's just how he is." And the focus shifted to Kanda's other adopted brother, Marie. Cane in hand, he offered a smile as he tapped the plastic across the porch on his way to them.

"Tch, I __know__. I hate it so much."

"We know, Kanda, we know."

"You can't deprive him of a family dinner with his son's new boyfriend, though, can you?" The slight tease in Marie's voice made Kanda's blood boil, but it's not as if the African-Austrian man could see his enraged expression.

"Whatever." Yet despite Kanda's anger, the hand on Allen's shoulder was anything but rough, and he was even polite as he ushered his shorter boyfriend inside, where Tiedoll immediately began to gush over the couple. Kanda was utterly dismayed, but Allen couldn't help but to feel like today was the best day of his life—yet hopefully, and it was very likely to be true, tomorrow would be even better.

Every day from now on—it was all just going to be better.

* * *

Author Notes: I hope I didn't make anyone out to be unreasonably bad; I really wanted both Nea and Tyki to seem justified. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!


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